


Tangles

by Elewynne



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bad hats, Banter, Commentary, Dirty Thoughts, Drama, Drinking, Drunkenness, Epic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Injury, Innuendo, Internal Monologue, Love, Not Canon Compliant, Points of View, Politics, Post-Canon, Romance, Sarcasm, Secret Library, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Surprises, Teasing, beyond the cut scenes, smirking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 23,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elewynne/pseuds/Elewynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of short stories, in no particular order, largely centered around Elaira Lavellan, her companions and advisers, and her romance with Cullen. Humor, drama, angst, sarcasm, bad hats... Focusing on the events "in between" those depicted in the game. Will update as I can. NSFW chapters will be marked.</p>
<p>"Largely" canon for the main DAI storyline, except I feel it's more reasonable for it to take 2+ years to play out. Horses don't run that fast across continents, you know. Post-main storyline stuff is a bit non-canon, as some was written before the DLCs came out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting up the Nerve

She stared across the walkway to the tower, heart pounding. Her newfound confidence was slowly melting away like the ice on Skyhold’s battlements in the unseasonably warm afternoon sun. 

_Damn you, Dorian._

His advice seemed so reasonable in the welcoming, safe confines of his library nook. She sought him out that morning, no longer able to deny her growing feelings for Commander Cullen. She had almost ran away in embarrassment when Dorian burst out in laughter to her whispered, stuttering confession. He grabbed her arm and gently steered her into one of the soft, overstuffed reading chairs. She curled up into it, arms defensively folded around her legs.

“Do you really think that wasn’t already common knowledge? My love, everyone in your inner circle is quite aware of the adorable little dance you two are doing.” Dorian smiled smugly as he leaned into a bookcase across from her, arms folded across his chest.

She felt the heat rise into her face. Then her heart skipped a beat as the entire meaning of his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean – “we” are doing?” 

He laughed gently. “Everyone but you, dear Inquisitor, can see that our deliciously handsome Commander is a fool for you.”

Her head reeling, she felt a smile slowly spread across her face. “Truly Dorian? Do you think so? I had hoped…” She paused. “But how can I know that he wasn’t just being polite? That he even sees beyond the Inquisitor to me…” 

Her smile faded as she trailed off. Being the Herald was a heavy enough burden before; now, as Inquisitor, she felt the weight expand and grow, and at times it felt as though she would be crushed beneath it. _Elaira Lavellan_ felt like she was slipping away day by day as the legend of the Inquisitor grew. Many people no longer saw her as a woman, nor even an elf, anymore. She was the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, unreal and unfathomable and sacred. Cullen, she knew, was a religious man – how could he see beyond his beliefs and care for her as a person?

Dorian kneeled across from her, unwinding her arms from around her legs and taking her hands in his. “Elaira, trust me, he sees you as a woman, if his reaction to staring at your lovely bottom as you walk away from him is any indication.” 

She felt her blush return, even as she laughed. Dorian nodded in satisfaction and continued. “In all seriousness, Elaira, there is a betting pool, and I intend to win. For all our sakes, not just you and your handsome former Templar, march over to that absurdly phallic tower of his and ravish him right now. Goodness knows he’s too much of a fool to take the initiative, so it’s up to you to make the first move.” He squeezed her hands encouragingly.

Her mouth hung open. “A _betting pool,_ Dorain? What the…” 

“Never you mind, love.” He pulled her up out of the chair and pushed her towards the stairs. “Go find your knight in shining armor. And do tell me what you find under it, later…”

\----

She stood in the sun staring across to Cullen’s tower, a smile quirking the side of her mouth. Thank the gods for Dorian and all her advisors, her friends, here at Skyhold. Including Cullen... The butterflies returned. Gods, were her hands trembling?

She glanced up behind her to the keep. Dorian was undoubtedly watching her from one of the dark windows above, making sure she followed through on his advice. She turned back to the walkway, and the tower beyond it. 

_I’m the Inquisitor. I have killed countless demons; faced down an apparent Archdemon dragon thing and Corypheus the wannabe god at Haven and lived… though barely..._ She shuddered involuntarily. _I will not be afraid of talking to Cullen about…this…like an adult…_

She blew out a harsh breath at her lackluster pep talk. 

_Andraste’s tits._

She walked towards Cullen’s tower, stomach fluttering, and pushed open the heavy oak door.


	2. Sunlight

She couldn’t help it.

The late afternoon light streaming into the War Room was soft and yellow, warm on her skin, and, most importantly, lit up her Commander with an unearthly halo. Her mouth had dropped open when she first entered the room and laid eyes on the stupidly handsome man. She hoped the half smiles she saw Josephine and Leliana exchange were due to her ever-disheveled hair or some stain on her shirt that she couldn’t see. She was fairly certain they did not fall for her weak attempt at turning her expression into a yawn; thankfully, the Commander was too busy studying the War Table to notice any of it.

With Josephine and Leliana droning on about Orlesian politics for the past 20 minutes, her attention was all but spent. She leaned forward on the war table, bored and sleepy. She tried, really tried, to pay attention, knowing as Inquisitor she was expected to be adept at more than just fighting demons and closing rifts. As an elf, she had a lot to learn when it came to human politics in particular. But the warmth of the room and the glowing Commander across from her made her lose track of the conversation ages ago.

Her thoughts started innocently enough. She idly wondered if he had more than one of the same fur-rimmed cloak in his wardrobe, or if he really did wear the same one day after day. _That must be difficult for whomever does his laundry._

Then she wondered when there was time to do that laundry. Cullen was up and about the keep at all hours, it seemed. Skyhold was cold, despite the magic which kept it from being completely artic like the surrounding mountains, so the cloak was more than justified. Still, the man had to have something else to wear. She had seen him train with the recruits a few times, and he had removed the cloak then, but the thing had to get dirty. _He must have someone do his laundry overnight, so it’s clean when he wakes up the next day._

And that is when the trouble started.

The inevitable mental image of Cullen undressed crossed her mind. Her breath caught in her throat and she her eyes squeezed shut. She felt heat rise to her face and cursed her fair skin. _It isn’t proper to think of that,_ she told herself, _he is the Inquisition’s Commander for Mythal’s sake._ She tried to banish the image but it was so… attractive. 

_Damn it._

She opened her eyes, determined to focus on what was going on in the conversation and not fantasize about Cullen, but the man was right across the table from her. He was talking about Gods-know-what to Leliana, and he positively glowed in the sun. Elaira felt her heart beat faster. The fur of his collar looked warm and soft, the ridiculously perfect blonde hair shone like gold to counter the silver of his breastplate. He waved his hand in the air animatedly, and she could see muscles in his arm flex in the gaps between his armor. 

She felt her face grow redder as her mind betrayed her - thoughts of those hands on her body, what it might feel like to run her fingers up his bare arms…

She squeezed her eyes shut again. _No, no, no - Cullen is your advisor,_ she thought urgently. _Stop it, stop it!_

“Inquisitor?”

Elaira’s eyes snapped open to see all three advisors starting at her. Leliana gave her a not-quite-hidden look of amusement, a smile flitting across her face. Cullen looked at her with innocent confusion. Josephine was staring at her, mouth slightly open as she glanced at the other two advisors then tentatively said, “Stop… what?”

Elaira felt her stomach twist. _Oh Gods, did I say something out loud? What did I say? Please, Mythal, please – please tell me I didn’t say his name…_ She cleared her throat, aware she had probably turned the color of red lyrium. She knew she had to think of something to say, quickly, but her previously overactive imagination had become stubbornly silent. She stared back at her advisors blankly.

Cullen leaned forward across the War Table towards her, concerned, and she noticed how warm his honey-brown eyes are. Her eyes - _Damn her eyes_ \- are drawn down to the scar on his lips as he speaks. “Inquisitor, you look unwell, is everything all right?” Those lips…

Elaira straightened quickly and awkwardly adjusted her shirt. “Um, yes, I’m not feeling well,” she declared, too quickly. “I just need to go lie down a bit.” 

“Oh no, let me help you…” Josephine said as started around the table towards her.

Elaira stuck out her hand, aware she was being ridiculous, but couldn’t stop herself. “No, it’s ok, Josie,” she said. “You three should continue the discussion. Let me know what you decide, later. OK?”

Without waiting for an answer she quickly turned and fled the room, leaning against the War Room door after she slammed it closed. 

Elaira blew out a gust of air in embarrassment. She stared down the empty corridor, seeing only Cullen’s face full of concern and confusion as she had fled the War Room. 

_Stupidly handsome man._


	3. News

He… was crying.

Former Templar; infamous former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall; the even more _famous_ Commander of the victorious Inquisition; he who helped defeat the would-be-god Corypheus; praised by all who knew him for his resolute, steady, unwavering presence… was crying.

Elaira looked up at him as tears rose up in his eyes and slowly overflowed onto his cheeks, his mouth slightly open. She didn’t know what to do; her hands wrung themselves together, unsure if she should touch him. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. “Is… it true? Are you sure?”

Elaira nodded, feeling tears rising up into her own eyes. Her vision blurred as he sighed and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close as if trying to merge their bodies together. He started laughing softly into her hair.

Elaira felt a smile blossom onto her face and she pressed it into the soft linen of his shirt.

“You’re going to be a father, Cullen.”


	4. Curly

"Varric?"

"Mm?"

"Why do you call him Curly?"

A pause, then Elaira heard a low laugh. She lowered her book slightly and peered across the top to the dwarf. He was sitting in the chair next to hers, leaning over the table, writing his latest novel. Varric glanced up in her direction with a wry smile. "Well that answers the burning question of just how intimate our Inquisitor and Commander have gotten."

Elaira laughed, and shut her book with a thump. "That's a burning question, is it? Whose, exactly?"

Varric leaned back, stretching his neck, his grin getting wider. "Come on Sunshine, you know these gossip mongers you call you inner circle are abuzz with your new romance. And with any good story, people want to know all the juicy details."

Elaira laughed again, adjusting the blanket around her. She had just spent the past month in the field in the dead of winter, and thought she would never feel warm again. Varric's cozy corner of the great hall, complete with well-worn, overstuffed chairs and a roaring fireplace was on her short list of favorite haunts. Curling up in a ridiculously large chair, placed as close as safely possible to the fireplace, was delicious luxury after shivering alone in her tent for the past four weeks.

Varric still watched her. "So why _are_ you here blocking my light, anyway? Shouldn't you and Curly be... reacquainting yourselves? You've been gone a while and the man was moping around Skyhold the whole time."

Elaira picked at the fuzz on her blanket, and replied a bit grumpily, "He's stuck in a meeting with his lieutenants." She and her companions had arrived back at Skyhold unexpectedly early, unwilling to spend yet another night freezing in their tents. When she had arrived in the courtyard she saw the Commander walking quickly over to their group, an uncharacteristically large smile on his face as he looked at her. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and prayed to the Gods she wasn’t too filthy. Or smelly. Her hair was probably a singular disaster right now… _Get a hold of yourself._

Cullen walked up to her horse, stroking its neck gently. “Inquisitor, I… we… are glad you arrived back safely.”

She looked down at him with a ridiculously large grin - she felt giddy at the sight of him. “It’s good to be home Commander.” She lowered her voice, unable to help herself. “And it’s…very good to see you again.” They had both agreed on the need to keep their budding relationship to themselves, but damn it all, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself onto him and kiss him like a woman possessed. They confessed their feelings to each other the week before she left; she only had a few stolen, secret kisses to savor in her memory during this long, lonely, _cold_ mission.

Cullen blushed a delectable shade of pink. He reached up and helped her down off her horse, hands on her waist. As he did so he whispered, for only her ears, “I must go to a meeting with my lieutenants. But please, if you can, find time for me this evening. I have missed you.” His hands tightened on her waist, lingering a bit longer than was necessary, before releasing her and stepping back.

Elaira felt her heart racing at the feel of his hands on her, something she had imagined repeatedly while she was gone. The urge to yank him down into a passionate kiss was almost unbearable. _Control yourself_ , she chided. _The courtyard is not the ideal place to tear off your Commander’s armor and clothes. At least not in winter._

She looked up at him and nodded, and managed a polite, entirely _not sexy_ , “Thank you Commander.” 

Cullen gave her a half smile, one that tugged at that delicious scar on his mouth, before he turned and walked away. 

Elaira sighed at the memory, impatient for when she can finally, _properly_ say hello to Cullen. 

Varric chuckled at her as she stared off into space. “Ah, new love. You two really are adorable. I may have to write a novel about it.”

Elaira considered throwing her book at him, but decided the book didn’t deserve it. “We are _trying_ to keep this between us, you know. We don’t need all of Thedas reading about it.”

Varric snorted. “Then why did you two make out on the battlements at the front of Skyhold for the better part of an hour last month?”

Elaira blushed, the memory of that first, searing kiss, Cullen pulling her to him… Then a few more kisses after that… His hand tangled in her hair, the other pulling her hips against him… _Was it really an hour?_

“I… didn’t really think about where we were at the time. Besides, I know for a fact that you can’t see up there from down in the courtyard, only a few of the patrols may have seen us, and they’d never… gossip……” She felt the heat on her face intensify. “ _Fenedhis_ …”

Varric burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair with his hand to his face. “REALLY Sunshine? Are you that gullible? You thought soldiers would _never_ gossip? And trust me, there are plenty of places where those battlements are in clear view to anyone interested in looking…” He laughed harder when she shot him a dirty look. 

Varric leaned towards her. “Listen, let me spell it out for you - The whole of Skyhold knows about you two, and there’s not a soul here that isn’t happy for you both. Everyone knows you two have seen some tough shit, and deserve to find some happiness. The fact that it plays out like some sugary sweet fairytale helps, too.”

Elaira looked down at the book in her lap, embarrassed but touched. She knew those closest to her, her advisors, all cared for her, for each other. _Although some more than others_ , she thought, thinking of Cassandra and Varric’s constant bickering. That all of Skyhold was happy at her and Cullen’s relationship was… unexpected, and touching. Perhaps the people here did see her as more than just an idol. 

“I guess it was a bit… stupid… to think no one would notice.” She looked up at Varric with a mischievous grin. “But Cullen would be appalled if he heard this. He doesn’t want to be the subject of gossip. He’s very… private.”

Varric smiled at her. “Sunshine, Curly has _always_ been the subject of gossip. The man is oblivious to how attractive he is but trust me, no one around him is. When he kissed you on that battlement he broke a few dozen hearts in Skyhold alone.”

Elaira laughed, shaking her head. She picked her book back up and opened it, searching for where she left off. She glanced at Varric again, narrowing her eyes. “So are you going to tell me why you call him Curly or not?”

Varric picked up his pen and hunched over his papers with a smirk. “Sunshine, it’s not my place to tell another man’s secrets.”


	5. Sanctuary

“Close your eyes,” he whispered in her ear.

Elaira smiled, leaning back and raising an eyebrow up at her Commander. “What is this, a surprise?”

Cullen gave her an amused smile and he took her hand in his. “It is. You will have to trust me.”

Elaira felt her body flush with heat. _Does he know what he does to me?_ She obligingly closed her eyes. She felt a feather light brush of his lips across hers, tantalizingly soft and making her breath hitch, but gone before she could respond. She gasped softly as soft fabric brushed across her eyes, and Cullen tied the blindfold gently behind her head. He pulled her close against his side, one arm around her back and the other lightly holding her hand. “Off we go!”

Elaira laughed, squeezing her eyes shut as Cullen led her out of his tower and into the dark. At this time of night, Skyhold was blissfully quiet, everyone sleeping except for the patrols on the battlements. She felt the cold mountain air stealing the warmth from the parts of her body not sheltered against his. _It feels so good to feel him against me, and not his armor…_ She pressed closer, smiling happily to finally be back in his arms. _Please Gods, be kind. Let me not have to leave Skyhold again for a while._ He led her across the stone walkway to the main keep, back into warmth. 

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered, and felt the low rumble in Cullen’s chest as he laughed softly.

“Do you not know what a surprise is, Inquisitor?” 

She felt the world tilt as he lifted her slightly and spun her in a gentle circle, thoroughly disorienting her. Elaira laughed. Cullen slowed their spin, and she felt his lips brush hers again. She pressed against him, mindlessly needing to touch him, needing to sink deeper into these light, teasing kisses. She had been away far too long... 

He pulled away and whispered in her ear, a smile in his voice, “If you do that we’ll never get there. Keep your eyes closed.” She could feel his heartbeat racing in his chest. _Will it always be like this between us? Burning, never satisfied, always wanting more…_

Cullen guided her up stairs, down ramps, and through hallways, until she had no idea where in Skyhold they could be. The keep was silent except for their steps ghosting across stone and carpet.

Cullen swept her up into his arms, and Elaira squeaked in surprise. He carried her carefully down a flight of stairs before setting her down and opening a door. He led her through and she heard it click behind her; at last he removed the blindfold and said, “You can open your eyes now.”

Elaira blinked several times, then gasped. She was in a short hallway, with a brightly lit chamber at the end. She walked slowly towards it, her eyes taking in the tall bookshelves and stacks upon stacks of books around the room. A familiar, oversized burgundy chair and a sturdy wooden table sat in the center of the room; thick rugs woven with the colors of the forest were spread across the floor. She walked into the library, turning around in amazement. Two silver owls in flight looked down on her from either side of the arched entry, where Cullen stood, watching her.

Elaira looked back at him in astonishment. “What is this? _Where_ is this?”

Cullen smiled at her. “In the depths of Skyhold. This place has more secrets than the Fade.” He walked towards her, running his hands down her arms before settling them on her waist. “I… know how hard it must be to carry all the responsibilities we lay upon you.” He looked at the library around them. “I found this place while you were away, and thought you could use a… sanctuary. From everything. From everyone…”

“Cullen….” Elaira reached up and touched his face. He looked in her eyes. “I… don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful… wonderful…”

He gave her a wry smile. “It was a mess when I found it; there were cobwebs everywhere… It took quite a while to make it presentable; unfortunately you being gone so long gave me plenty of time to do so.”

Elaira looked around the room again. “Is that… Dorian’s chair?”

Cullen blushed. “There was rickety little wooden one in here before, and it looked terribly uncomfortable. Unfortunately we are still low on certain supplies, particularly furniture. I brought this one down from Dorian’s library while he was away with you. I… thought it might be your favorite. At least, you always seem to be curled up in it...”

Elaira laughed. “He must be beside himself.”

Cullen’s grin lit up his face. “He has been searching everywhere, convinced Sera is playing a prank on him, or that some skulking noble stole it while he was gone. I personally ordered a replica to be brought in from Orlais for him, but it will take at least a month to arrive. I didn’t want you to have to wait...”

Elaira looked at him again, wonder on her face. “You knew it was my favorite… And the owls, they are so beautiful. They… have always been meaningful to me.” 

He smiled again. “A good Commander must be observant…” he murmured, slowly drawing her closer to him. “But I admit having more interest you than most.”

Elaira ran her fingers up his arms, heat coiling in her belly. _Alone, private, no one to interrupt us. It’s been so long…_ She looked up at him with a sultry smile, her eyes burning with desire. “More than _most?_ "

A slight flush crawled up his neck. He leaned down until his lips were almost on hers, his hands tightening on her hips. “More than _anyone,_ ” he corrected, his voice rough. “Ever.” 

Elaira surged up and pressed her lips against his, her whole body igniting as he pulled her roughly against him, finally giving in to the _need_ that was always between them, just beneath the surface. She was falling apart, drowning in flame, and it made her feel alive.

_Fire that never goes out, always burning, never satisfied…_


	6. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for all the kudos. Seriously. I did not expect so many to read or enjoy my stories. <3

She couldn’t feel her toes.

The wind blowing through the mountains was bitterly cold. Elaira tried to hold the fur cloak more tightly around her as she berated herself over choosing this place to sulk. _Next time don’t pick that really high outcrop above the lake in the middle of winter. Scenic, but uncomfortable…_

She stubbornly refused to move, though. Returning to Haven, to the wide eyed looks, the bowing, hearing “Herald” everywhere she went… She couldn’t take it right now. She didn’t deserve it, for one. She certainly didn’t believe any of it. She was just a Dalish elf, sent to the Conclave after much pleading on her part. Her Keeper eventually let her go only because she believed they’d kill her on sight, ridding the Clan of her troublesome presence once and for all. _Ironic, instead of murdering me on sight, they made me their newest religious icon. After almost murdering me on sight. Minor misunderstanding…_

Elaira looked up at the sickly green tear in the sky, watching the clouds swirl lazily around it. Rocks the size of small mountains danced in the center of the Breach as if they weighed nothing. Lightning pulsed, and the… thing… on her hand flickered in response. She grimaced at the sensation that her palm was being pulled into itself, into _somewhere else._

_At least it doesn’t hurt like it did at first. It’s tolerable now._ Elaira sighed. _Unlike this whole “be the messenger of our weird religion you don’t even follow and, by the way, can you help us save the world too?” thing._ The saving the world part was fine. She genuinely wanted to help, however she could, but wished it didn’t involve posturing as some sort of holy messenger. Perhaps, if they succeed tomorrow, and the Breach is closed for good…

“Herald?”

She yelped in surprise, hand on her dagger as she turned and sought out the voice. Commander Cullen stood several yards behind her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His face was slightly pink, either from embarrassment or the cold, she couldn’t tell.

“I’m fine,” Elaira said, standing up and adjusting the cloak around her. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to find me here.”

The Commander walked closer. “One of the guards saw someone up here, and alerted me.” He smiled slightly. “I hope someday you might share how you manage to get out of Haven with no one noticing. I had thought my new patrol pattern was extremely… thorough.”

Elaira laughed softly, and raised an eyebrow at him. “You did make it much more challenging, Commander.” She narrowed her eyes slightly, teasing him. “But since you asked so nicely, I suppose I will have to show you just how skilled I am… Someday...” His face turned even redder. _Oh, how I love making him blush…_

Cullen cleared his throat. “I… If I may ask, Herald, why are you out here? Is there something bothering you?” 

Elaira sighed, feeling her smile fade as she turned back to stare at the Breach. She hesitated a few moments before replying, “The weight of the world, Commander. Who knew it was so damn heavy?”

She heard his boots scrape on the ice and rock, and the cold wind faded. She turned slightly and found Cullen standing close behind her, his body shielding her from the worst of the elements as he stared at the Breach.

“I can’t imagine what it must feel like.” He looked down at her face, meeting her eyes. “I know you did not ask for this, but what you have done…” He trailed off, staring at her intently, as if searching for something. Elaira felt the heat rise in her face under his scrutiny. She had never been so close to him before. _He is so tall; I almost fit under his chin…_

Cullen eventually spoke, his voice low. “I do not know if you were chosen by Andraste. I know _you_ believe it is all a lie; that you were ‘chosen’ by nothing but random chance. But the people believe. They _need_ to believe. And to fix this,” he said, gesturing to the Breach, “we need all the support we can get.” He looked down at her again. 

She felt her frustration melting away beneath the intensity of his gaze. These were all things she knew, things she had heard from Leliana and Josephine every time she protested against encouraging belief in the Herald. But coming from Cullen there was something more there that she didn’t quite understand. Elaira was mesmerized, unable to do anything but stare. His hand came up and brushed her cheek gently. _So warm, even though his glove…_

“All I know is that I believe in _you,_ Elaira.” He whispered softly, only audible because he now stood only inches from her. “Neither Luck nor Andraste could have chosen anyone more worthy. For all that you have willingly done and sacrificed for the people of Thedas; for what you are going to do tomorrow... You will always have my loyalty…”

Elaira stared at him, stunned, her mouth slightly open. Hearing her name on his lips sent a thrill through her. _He has never said it before…_ Her hand reached up to touch his, still resting against her cheek. Her eyes wandered across his face of their own volition, her body suddenly feeling hot despite the cold. _What would it be like…?_

Cullen gently pulled his hand away, startling her of her daze. He was redder than ever and suddenly couldn’t meet her eyes. “I… ah… I should be getting back, there is a lot… I just…” He swallowed, backing up a step. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

Elaira felt herself nod mutely, still unable to form words. Cullen bowed slightly to her, then turned and walked back down the path towards Haven.

With his departure the cold wind returned, but she didn’t feel it anymore. 

_Things just got a lot more interesting…_


	7. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two posts in one day! But I couldn’t help it - this story came out unbidden when I discovered this absolutely beautiful original piece by Suzanne van Pelt – give it a listen!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=23&v=-oA-OvP3vME

He cried out, wordlessly, in his sleep. 

Elaira awoke, turning in their bed and leaning onto her elbow. She carefully rested her other hand on his chest. “Cullen,” she whispered gently. “My love, you’re only dreaming.” 

His face contorted in some unseen agony, sweat beading on his forehead. _“No… Please…”_ he whispered.

Elaira spoke louder, “Cullen, wake for me…”

His eyes flew open and he grabbed her arm, gasping. 

“Shhh….” She soothed, moving her hand to touch his face. “You’re in Skyhold. You’re safe.”

He stared at her, his eyes wide and fearful. “Elaira?” he whispered.

She smiled gently. “I’m here, love.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes squeezing shut. “I dreamed… I lost you… That you were…” His voice choked. 

Elaira pushed herself up higher in the bed, pulling Cullen to her and cradling his larger frame against her body. She rested her head on his as he clung to her, trembling, sweat and tears mingling on her chest.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “You will never lose me.”


	8. Hats

“Vivienne.”

“Yes dear?”

“How am I supposed to fight in this thing?” Elaira turned her head back and forth in the mirror, staring at the white monstrosity on her head. _I can’t see anything to my left side, and the right is questionable…_

“Hats are _all_ the rage in Val Royeaux, my dear.” Vivienne patiently explained, not looking up from the huge display of fabric she was browsing through. “The size of the headpiece is a direct reflection of that person’s power and influence. As Inquisitor, you must outshine _everyone;_ it would be a huge embarrassment if some lowly duchess showed up with a grander display than you.” 

Elaira made a face at the back of Vivienne’s head. “I think it would be a bigger embarrassment if I ended up dead because I can’t see anything and fell down the stairs.”

Vivienne managed to make her sigh sound condescending. “Don’t be so dramatic, my dear. Fashion, like anything, comes with a price. The Inquisition _must_ make a statement.”

Elaira looked to Josephine instead, wordlessly pleading for an ally. Her advisor stood behind her and tapped her pen to her lips pensively.

“Still, Lady Vivienne, we cannot have the Inquisitor harmed in the name of fashion.” Elaira felt a surge of triumph until Josephine continued. “If we take up the fabric on the sides that would allow her to see. We can make it wider, and it would still be quite the statement…” 

Vivienne and Josephine crowded close, both of them tugging at the offensive headwear, discussing how to modify it. Elaira stared at herself in the mirror, miserable. _Gods, what did I do to deserve this torture?_

“What in the Maker’s name is THAT?”

Elaira looked but couldn’t see the Commander through her aravel-sized headpiece. _Now I know what a horse with blinders on feels like._

She turned her head this way and that until she finally caught sight of him standing near the entry to her chambers, a confused look on his face and a sheaf of reports dangling in one hand, forgotten.

_‘Help me!’_ she mouthed to him wordlessly.

“Ah Commander, how nice to see you my dear,” Vivienne nodded to him, still adjusting the fabric around Elaira’s head. “We are working on the Inquisitor’s wardrobe for the Ball at Halamshiral. Doesn’t she look magnificent?”

Cullen stared at the thing on her head, his mouth hanging open. Finally he replied, “She looks ridiculous. How is she supposed to stop an assassin in that?”

Vivienne shot him a pitying look. “She is supposed to win the hearts and minds of the Orlesian court. It wouldn’t do to show up looking like a commoner, my dear.”

“…what is _taking_ so long Commander? I don’t have all day…” Dorian’s head appeared over the bannister behind Cullen, as he climbed the stairs into her room. He caught sight of the trio of women around the mirror. “ _Vishante kaffas!_ What on Thedas landed on her head?”

Elaira eyed the doors to her balcony, seriously considering the merits of throwing herself over the edge. 

Dorian walked over to the mirror shaking his head. “Vivienne, your obsession with Orlesian frippery has gone too far. The Inquisitor will be laughed out of the Ball by anyone with eyes. It’s completely the wrong look for her.”

Vivienne sighed, giving him a look of distaste. “You of all people should appreciate the need to make a statement, Dorian.”

“Absolutely! But I think we disagree on what that statement is. I, for one, don’t think making it look like a garishly huge wedding cake landed on the Inquisitor’s head is a positive one. Besides,” he said, reaching up and trying to remove the thrice-accursed headpiece. “Our Elaira has such beautiful hair. Why not show it off, instead of hiding it away?”

Elaira felt the weight lift and her eyesight returned. _Blessed relief…_ She stretched her neck and gave Dorian a look of pure gratitude. “I could kiss you Dorian Pavus,” she said. 

Dorian chuckled as he passed the monstrosity to a servant. “Now, now, love. You’ll make our Commander jealous.” He then leaned over to Josephine, a sly smile on his face. “Now, Josie, what do you think about setting a _new_ fashion trend in Orlais. An artrful messy bun and some soft curls would frame her face just beautifully, don’t you think?”

Josephine’s eyes lit up. “Oh! The Inquisitor has _never_ let me do anything with her hair before!” She clapped her hands for more servants. 

Vivienne hummed thoughtfully, tapping a perfectly manicured finger to her lips. “It is a gamble, but it could work. Let us see what we can do, my dear.”

Dorian flashed Elaira a self-satisfied smirk as he sauntered back towards the stairs. “My work here is finished. Commander? Shall we get to our game? Or are you content to stand there gaping like a fish the rest of the afternoon?”

Cullen still stood near the stairs, clutching his reports, turning slightly red. “Uh, no. These can wait until later.” He bowed slightly, a baffled look still on his face. “Ladies. Inquisitor.”

The men disappeared down the stairs. Elaira laughed to herself even as a team of servants started attacking her hair under the direction of Vivienne and Josephine. 

_Dorian is going to get some really expensive wine for this..._


	9. The Beginning

_Three days?_ She wondered as the elven woman ran away. _Have I been out for three days?_

She looked around the room she woke up in. A warm fire cast a cheery glow. Some pelts hung on the wall, a couple paintings, a bookshelf with tomes piled haphazardly and bundles of dried herbs on the shelves. A crow in a cage eyed her for a moment then squawked with annoyance. 

“I’ll be out of your feathers shortly.” Elaira said as she walked around. She found a note on the table in the corner. 

_\--- Day One ---  
Clammy. Shallow breathing…_

She sighed, setting the note back down. The box dropped by the strangely terrified elf had some herbs in it but nothing else. Elaira shrugged and stood back up. _Well she said Cassandra wanted to see me…_

She went to the door and opened it. 

Then she quickly shut it again. 

_What in the Gods name…_

There were two guards in front of the house. Not surprising, since the last she heard she was a prisoner accused of destroying the Conclave, killing everyone there including the Divine Justinia. 

The crowd of people standing beyond the guards was unexpected, however. Elaira tentatively cracked open the small port hole on the door and peered outside. The crowd seemed interested about her brief appearance, but not murderous. _Well that is a nice change…_

She heard someone call out. _“Herald…”_

She eased the panel shut again, her hand resting on it. _Well I can either hide in here until Cassandra comes for me, or I can try to get out of here and hope this crowd doesn’t finish me off…_

She _thought_ she may have convinced the Seeker she wasn’t to blame for what happened, but she had only known the fierce woman for a few hours so it was hard to say anything for sure. But hiding inside didn’t hold much appeal either. _If the crowd turned vengeful, a wooden hut isn't going to be much protection anyway…_

Elaira sighed, straightened her shoulders, and opened the door again. 

The crowd was still there, but it hushed as she stood uncertainly in the doorway. The soldiers saluted, hands over their chest. Elaira felt her confusion grow. She took a few slow steps out of the hut. She looked around but the only path was forward, past the guards. Her heart pounded in her chest but they didn’t move as she walked past them and down into the crowd. More guards lined the path leading to some stairs up the hill, saluting her as she walked forward in a daze. Soft murmurs reached her ears as she moved through the crowd.

_“That’s her… that’s the Herald of Andraste…”_

_“Hush, we shouldn’t disturb her…”_

_“…Andraste herself blessed her…”_

Elaira felt her head swimming. She didn’t know where she was, what was going on. _What did these people want?_ Suddenly there was a cry from the crowd.

“Maker be with you!”

Elaira looked but couldn’t see the man who called out. Then a woman followed suit.

“Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste!”

Elaira reached the steps; at the top she recognized a large stone Chantry ahead of her. 

_Haven. I’m back in Haven._ She had stopped here briefly on her way to the Conclave. Some holy place in the human’s religion, she knew, but not much more than that. 

The area at the top of the stairs was much less crowded, and guards prevented the crowd below from following her up. Elaira looked at the small knots of people she passed, saw hope in their eyes, excitement. _At least they aren’t angry..._

She heard more whispers, though; things about Heralds, rifts, Andraste, blessings… She felt lightheaded; she wanted to run but there was no obvious way out of the village. _Breathe… Find Cassandra. She will explain what is going on…_

A group of priests and priestesses stood outside the Chantry doors, talking among themselves. Some of them eyed her, their faces unreadable. Others bowed their heads. Elaira tried to remain calm, and nodded to them with what she hoped was a pleasant smile as she walked past and pushed open the heavy wood doors. 

The inside of the Chantry was warm, dimly lit, and thankfully empty of people. Elaira pushed the doors shut behind her and leaned against them, her heart pounding. _Fenedhis._

Then she started to quietly laugh. _Well, they didn’t try to kill me; that’s an improvement over last time I woke up in a strange place..._

Elaira pushed off the doors, and walked slowly along the main corridor, peering in the dark alcoves on either side. As she neared the door at other end she heard a man and woman, their voices raised in argument.

“Have you gone completely mad? She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.” 

“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra. _Defending me?_ Elaira stopped just short of opening the door, unsure what to do. 

“The elf failed, Seeker; the Breach is still in the sky. For all you know she intended it this way…”

“I do not believe that!”

Elaira felt like she was drowning as the voices swirled around her. She rested her head in her hands, wanting to scream and cry and... _I could run. There has to be another way out of here. There were so few guards in this area, I could slip past, find some weapons, find a way over the wall…_

She sighed. But the man said the… Breach… was still there. Elaira looked down at the mark on her hand. The faint green glow seemed almost peaceful, the tearing agony gone, though her hand still felt…wrong. She ran the fingers of her other hand over the mark, surprised that it felt no different to the touch than before. She sighed.

_By the Dread Wolf, Elaira, you have seen the rifts. This is the only thing that can close them. They said there were more, all across Thedas. Are you really going to run and hide and let the world end around you?_

Elaira looked up, holding her head high and willing her fear away. _No._

She pushed open the door, and stepped into the unknown.


	10. Breakable

_“WHERE IS SHE?”_

Cullen dismounted his horse before it had completely stopped and strode into camp like the wrath of the Maker personified. The perimeter guards stared at their Commander in surprise before turning to grab the reins of the lathered stallion and mutter amongst themselves about the unfolding scene. Dorian swore, quickly standing up and moving to intercept the former Templar, leaving The Iron Bull gaping in surprise beside the fire. 

“Commander, what a pleasure,” Dorian smiled, trying to prevent the guards watching them from becoming any more suspicious. “The Inquisitor is resting at the moment.”

Cullen turned and looked at Dorian, and the intensity actually made the mage want to take a step back. _Maker, no wonder she calls him a lion..._ Then Dorian saw the deep circles under his eyes, how his hands were trembling. _It’s a four day journey from Skyhold to here, he must’ve ridden like a madman to reach us this quickly._

Dorian stepped closer, keeping his voice low, and staring intently into the other man’s eyes. “She is _alive,_ ” he said softly. “Only the three of us who were in her party know how serious her wounds are. Leliana suggested it would be…beneficial if we did not make her state common knowledge.”

He saw the muscles in Cullen’s jaw flex, saw how tightly the man tried to cling to control. _His lyrium withdrawals must be agony right now…_ Finally, Cullen nodded curtly at him, and made an attempt to smile at the mage. Dorian made a show of laughing and clapping him on the back, then steered him towards the center of camp. “This way Commander. How about a hot meal while you wait?” Dorian guided him towards the kitchen fires.

After making sure the guards had lost interest in them, Dorian led him to a nondescript tent off to the side of the camp. He held the tent flap back for the other man, then ducked in behind him. Varric sat on a low stool near the bed, looking up at them as they entered. He was either too exhausted to be surprised, or had overheard Cullen’s arrival, for he only nodded at the Commander. “She hasn’t woken,” he said quietly to them both, dark circles under his eyes and a bandage on his arm.

Dorian sighed, worry lines creasing his forehead now. He spoke quietly as the Commander walked to the bed and kneeled down beside it. “It happened so fast. You have seen her fight, she’s more than capable. We found a camp of Red Templars on our way back to camp for the night. We ambushed them. We only had a behemoth left when a marksman… came out of nowhere. He must’ve been off patrolling or…” Dorian sighed. 

“He hit The Iron Bull in the leg. None of us saw it coming. He staggered, and the behemoth’s swing missed him and hit her instead. She went flying. I saw her hit a boulder and…” Dorian swallowed. “We killed them as fast as we could. She had… many injuries. She was bleeding… We used all the healing potions, all the elfroot we had. It seemed to fix the worst of it... But she hasn’t woken up.”

Cullen stayed silent, starting at Elaira’s motionless form, carefully tucked beneath thick blankets, only her head visible. Her face looked unnaturally pale but peaceful, except for the dark purple bruise across one temple. Dorian gestured uselessly. “I never spent much time studying healing magic. In Tevinter it wasn’t seen as…” he trailed off. “I’ve drained all my reserves trying everything I could think of. I had hoped to try again after I regained some of my strength.”

Cullen finally seemed to shake out of his stupor. Without looking away from the Inquisitor he whispered, “I brought the most skilled healers at Skyhold with me. They… were not skilled riders, though. I left them to journey as they could with their escort. They should arrive with within a few hours, I hope.” He paused a moment. “Solas rode ahead with me, but he disappeared into the woods just before we arrived. He said he needed to gather some herbs for his work. Apparently they need to be as fresh as possible. He will join us when he is ready. I have lyrium and healing potions in my satchel.”

Dorian sighed in relief. “Thank the Maker.” _If anyone in the Inquisition can heal this it would be Solas._ “I will bring him here when he arrives.” He excused himself from the tent. 

Varric gently placed his hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “I’m sure having you here will help. Even if she can’t wake up right now… She will know.” The dwarf limped out of the tent after Dorian, leaving him alone with Elaira.

Cullen’s lips pressed into a hard line and he closed his eyes. His head bowed as he struggled for control. _I must be strong, she needs me to be strong… You are the Commander of the Inquisition, you must not give in to fear…_ He took several deep breaths. His lyrium withdrawal was a clawing headache behind his eyes, made worse from his complete inability to sleep since Leliana burst in to his office with news of Elaira’s injury. The only other time he had seen the Spymaster so shaken was after the destruction of the Conclave and murder of the Divine. She didn’t even protest when Cullen declared he was personally going to Elaira’s camp; only nodded and whispered “Maker guide you…” 

Cullen rode his hastily-gathered party of healers and their guards to exhaustion, driven by his terror of losing not only the last hope for Thedas but the woman that he loved more than life itself. 

Cullen looked up again after a few moments, his eyes fixating on Elaira’s still form. He tentatively uncovered her hand and held it gently in his. White bandages peeked out from beneath the blanket, the sight of which tore at his heart. _How grave were her injuries, that their entire cache of healing potions and all the magic Dorian could conjure could not mend it all…_ Cullen silently prayed to the Maker as he stared at her face, willing her to open her eyes and smile at him.

Cullen did not know how long he sat next to her bed, praying, before he heard the tent flap move behind him and Solas joined him next to the bed. “I’m sorry it took so long, Commander. I had to look for quite some time for some of the ingredients I sought.” 

Solas set down several flasks and a bag of herbs. Dorian entered behind him, carrying more supplies. He handed Solas a flask of lyrium. Cullen’s whole body tensed as he watched the two mages drink the blue fluid; his hands twitched involuntarily, his mouth craving the taste of it against his will. Dorian shot him a look of regret before kneeling and helping Solas prepare. Cullen forced himself to focus on Elaira’s still form, watching her breathe. 

Finally, they both kneeled, Solas next to Cullen and Dorian at the head of the bed. Dorian nodded his readiness to the elven mage, and Solas lifted a small, softly glowing green flask to Elaira’s lips, raising her head to trickle the potion down her throat. Dorian’s hands emitted a soft blue light on either side of her head. Once the flask was empty Solas set it down, then bowed his head as he spread his hands over her body. Soft lights danced over the Inquisitor’s still form. Cullen felt the hair on his body stand on end, and he fought down the instinct to recoil from the potency of the magic being used. He prayed to the Maker instead - pouring all he was into the silent, fervent words, ignoring the fire that seemed to ignite in his veins and the piercing pain lancing through his skull; only seeing her still form on the bed before him, bathed in light. 

* * *

Cullen awoke, disoriented, not even realizing he had been unconscious. He finally was able to focus on Solas’ concerned face hovering above him. “What happened?” he rasped, his throat strangely raw. 

Solas looked at him a moment before replying. “I cannot say for sure, but I have a theory. Can you sit up?” The elf offered him his hand. Cullen reached up and grasped it, groaning slightly as he moved. _I feel like I just fought in a war…_

He pressed his other hand into his skull, lights dancing behind his eyes. His headache seemed weaker than before; but his whole body felt spent, exhausted, as if all strength had fled. Cullen felt Solas’ hand press against his forehead. 

“Commander, if you will allow me? I may be able to help…” Cullen nodded weakly, then felt a cool river of healing flow through his body, soothing his aches and restoring some of this strength. He sighed in relief, and opened his eyes. 

Elaira looked at him from the bed, her face exhausted and pale, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Cullen…” she whispered.

He forgot everything else as he scrambled up to her bedside, filled with the need to touch her with his own hands, to feel that she was real and awake and _alive_. “Thank the Maker,” he whispered fervently, stroking her face gently. The bruise was gone from her temple, and a faint pink flush had returned to her cheeks. “Solas, Dorian, you did it…”

Dorian exchanged a look with Solas behind Cullen’s back. He tentatively spoke. “Well I’m not one to turn down praise, but… it was not all us, Commander…”

Solas nodded. “It seems your Templar abilities have not all fled, despite your discontinued use of lyrium. While our magic seemed to be helping, you also did… something. While it was not magic, it seemed to augment our healing, and combined it was enough to bring the Inquisitor back to us, whole.”

Cullen looked up in shock at the two mages. “I… I did not think I could use my Templar abilities anymore. I had stopped trying. I had assumed without lyrium…” He trailed off, then looked back to Elaira, who smiled softly at him. “Even so, I never had ability to heal, nor have I heard of any Templars that can…”

Solas nodded thoughtfully. “With you being the first known Templar to stop using lyrium, we have no point of comparison. However, it is possible that the lyrium only augments the abilities you gained through your training. Seeker Pentaghast had expressed the opinion that lyrium was not necessary for Templar abilities, and was solely used as a means for the Chantry to control the Order. It would seem she may be correct.” Solas smiled slightly. “As for what you did here, I cannot say. Perhaps you have discovered a new ability.”

Varric had entered the tent behind the mages. “It’s a good thing Sparkler put those wards around the tent, the light show going on in here would’ve attracted the whole camp, otherwise.” He looked at the bed and Elaira smiled at him, earning a sigh of relief from the dwarf. “Hey there, Sunshine. About time you woke up. That sleeping habit of yours is getting out of control.”

Elaira laughed quietly, then yawned. Cullen fought off a yawn of his own as his fatigue finally caught up with him. Solas spoke up. “I would suggest that we let the Inquisitor rest, her body will need time to recover from the healing. Commander, after what you’ve been through, I would suggest you do the same.” 

A second cot was brought in once Cullen made it clear he wouldn’t leave Elaira’s side. He pushed it up against hers and laid down after removing his armor. She curled around him, sighing contentedly as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. Despite his fatigue Cullen found himself unable to sleep; he laid there gently stroking her hair, listening to her breathe, feeling her heartbeat.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he whispered.


	11. Off Duty

“So I said _‘My ass should open up a shop, it’s apparently quite prolific.’_ ”

Dorian smiled smugly, then inelegantly snorted as Varric laughed himself right out of his chair. The Iron Bull roared in amusement, drowning out everyone else. 

Elaira, despite having been there, wasn’t doing much better. Her sides hurt so much she was more whimpering than laughing, tears streaming down her face. She gasped for breath, hunching over the table, being careful to avoid knocking over their drinks. “Oh … it was epic… You should’ve seen Cass’ face…” she gasped. Varric pounded the floor with his fist, unable to speak. 

Bull, still chuckling, pulled Dorian closer to him and slung his arm over his shoulders. “You have a formidable ass Dorian, but I had no idea it was so well armed.” 

Elaira’s laughter came out as pitiful wheezes as Dorian colored a deep red. “How many times do we have to have the talk about _discretion,_ Bull?” The Tevinter poked Bull in the chest, wrinkling his nose. “ _Vishante kaffas!_ And bathing, you came straight from the training grounds to the tavern again, didn’t you?” Dorian extracted himself from the Qunari’s arm. 

“Oh come on Sparkler, you two are hardly a secret around here.” Varric pulled himself up enough to swipe his drink off the table, then settled back on the floor. “Oh hey, I found Buttercup.” He pointed under the table where Sera slept, snoring, wrapped around a table leg.

Elaira sighed to herself, feeling happier than she had in quite a while. _I think I’m drunk. No, I am drunk. I haven’t been drunk in a long, long time, I forget exactly what it feels like. But I think this is it…_ The room wobbled pleasantly around her as she gulped down the last of her drink. She smiled as Bull teased Dorian and the mage pretended to get angry in return. Her spinning head suddenly demanded to know where _her_ lover was. _Cullen said he’d join us soon. That was ages ago._

Elaira stood up from the table, swaying, overcome with the unstoppable, single-minded determination associated with being terribly intoxicated. “Cullen isn’t here,” she declared. “He said he’d join us, we have to go find him!” 

Varric cheered his agreement, then tried unsuccessfully to get up off the floor. Bull pulled Dorian up from the bench with one hand and hoisted up the dwarf with the other. The group made their way out of the tavern, Bull having to herd them to the correct door. The Qunari shook his head. “You guys are lightweights, that stuff barely had any alcohol! Next time I’m going to show you some _Maraas-Lok_ , now _that’s_ a real drink. It’ll put some chest on your chest!” He roared with laughter. Elaira had no idea what he was talking about, but giggled anyway.

The group made their way across the courtyard of Skyhold, a human, an elf, and a dwarf stumbling around, held up by a giant Qunari, trying unsuccessfully to sing a dwarven drinking song Varric taught them earlier that evening. Bull herded the group up the stairs towards Cullen’s tower, preventing both Elaira and Varric from stumbling back down them as they lost their balance. Her goal in sight at last, Elaira pushed to the front of the pack and burst through Cullen’s door.

The Commander of the Inquisition looked up from his desk in surprise as four mildly to extremely intoxicated people stumbled in, Elaira in front, looking quite pleased with herself and wobbling dangerously. She leveled an unsteady finger at his bookcase. “You! You said you’d _join_ us! It’s been _hours._ Where have you been?”

Cullen gaped at her in surprise as she looked at him expectantly. Then he burst out laughing. “You’re drunk!” he said. 

The Inquisitor blew air out between her lips in what was presumably annoyance, but the ridiculous noise only made Cullen laugh harder. 

“Yeah and why aren’t you drunk with us Curly?” Varric tapped his foot as he leaned unsteadily on Bull’s leg. “You promised us this time!”

Cullen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I apologize Varric. Leliana delivered an urgent set of reports to me for review. It was not my intention to miss out on the… festivities. Though it seems you got along quite well without me.” He smirked at Elaira, knowing what the expression did to her. 

Elaira flashed her eyes at him in mock anger, then stumbled over and threw her arms around his neck. She smelled of fruit and ale and beamed up at him in what she probably thought was an alluring gaze but was instead rather comical. She leaned into him and whispered loudly “You’re so sexy when you smile like that!”

Bull snorted, grabbing the other two drunkards. “I think this is where we make our exit.” Dorian protested loudly, insisting he was just fine where he was. 

Varric grinned back at Cullen and gave him a jaunty salute as Bull steered him out the door with the complaining mage. “Have fun kids!” he called, pulling the door closed behind them.

Cullen felt a twinge of regret, disappointed that he allowed himself to miss out on what seemed to be a very entertaining evening. He looked down to the elf wavering like a pendulum within the circle of his arms and watched her unsuccessfully try to unbuckle one of the straps to his armor, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated. “Do you need something my love?” he asked. 

Elaira sighed, pouting. “You have _too much_ armor on!” She slapped at the offending buckle with an angry noise. 

Cullen laughed again, sweeping her up in his arms and earning a squeal of surprise. “Far be it from me to allow anything of mine to displease the Inquisitor.”

He carried her to the ladder to his bedroom and started climbing as she clung to his neck, humming in pleasure. He carefully laid her in his bed, then watched her try to untie her shoes for a full minute before he gave in, laughing, and helped her remove them. He then went about the task of removing his armor. Finished, he turned back to the bed to find Elaira curled up in the corner, sleeping peacefully. Smiling, Cullen freed the blanket from under her before joining her in bed, drawing Elaira into his arms and wrapping the blanket around them both. She sighed happily in her sleep, nuzzling herself closer against his chest. She hadn't been this carefree in many months; while it was good to see, he couldn’t help chuckling quietly to himself as held her. 

_She is going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow._


	12. Letting Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very NSFW. Like, really, **NOT safe at all**. After the tease of the last chapter I decided I had to give you guys _something_ as a reward, though! This is my first time writing smut, so go easy on me. ;)

Her head resting on his shoulder, she trailed lazy fingers across Cullen’s chest and abdomen, tracing out invisible symbols in his fine blonde hair. Over the past few days and nights, a quiet peace begun stealing into her, an uncoiling of the massive tension that had been building inside her for more than two years. She almost felt naked without it, empty; the feeling of relaxation more like an intruder than a welcome relief. Fear and doubt had been her constant, secret companions for what felt like a lifetime, ever since she awoke in Haven in chains, the mark burned forever into her hand. 

Her body must have betrayed her chain of thoughts; she felt Cullen’s arm tighten around her body, his head lifting up off the bed to look at her. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly, pressing his lips into her tangled hair.

She tiled her head up to see his face, looking into his golden brown eyes, seeing a slight furrow between his brows. Even now, she found herself wondering how she had earned the love of such a man; how was it that he could care for her so deeply. She still heard the silent voice inside her, whispering doubts. _You’re a fraud… You’re only here by accident… You’re hiding behind the greatness of others… One day he will realize it, they will all see through you…_

Elaira felt tears leak out of eyes she didn’t remember squeezing shut. She felt Cullen shift, wrapping both arms around her and drawing her closer as if to envelop her, protect her from the outside world. He stroked her hair gently with one hand, teasing out the tangles. “It’s over, my love,” he whispered. “It’s over. You can let it all go…” 

Elaira gasped, sobs suddenly overtaking her as grief and pain and doubt came pouring out, all the unspeakable things she kept hidden, buried. Hot tears ran down her face as endless death flashed through her mind, all the destruction she saw, destruction she _caused,_ all the things she failed to do and people she failed to save. She lost track of how long she cried, drowning in tears of self-doubt and regret, pain and fear and grief. 

As if coming out of a dream Elaira slowly became aware of where she was, her tears slowing. Her body ached as if she had fought a battle, her limbs heavy. She opened swollen eyes, seeing crumpled tissues strewn across the bed, not even remembering using them. Cullen still cradled her on his chest, his hands gently stroking her back. Her trembling body relaxed under his soothing touch, her breath slowing. She felt lighter, somehow, as if all her repressed emotions had been a physical weight in her that finally escaped, evaporating along with her tears.

Cullen shifted under her, bringing himself down to eye level, keeping her wrapped in his arms. He brushed away damp hair from her face, as he looked at her, concerned. “Did it help?” he asked quietly.

Elaira nodded, silent a moment before quietly replying, “I had to be strong, be the Inquisitor everyone needed. I couldn’t let things…” She paused. “Even after we defeated him, I couldn’t really believe it. That the threat was gone, that I could let go; I had done nothing but _be strong_ for so long…” She swallowed, pausing again, looking away and staring blindly off at the corner of the room. “I had built walls inside me, hid all my fear, my doubt; all the things the Inquisitor cannot show, cannot feel. But now… I think I finally realized it was over… and it was like a dam broke…”

After a while she became very aware of his gaze on her, and suddenly felt self-conscious - her eyes were swollen half shut, face red and tear streaked, damp hair plastered to her forehead. She looked back to his eyes, unsure of what he was thinking of her confession.

Cullen reached up, his hand caressing her cheek as he looked at her intently, as if memorizing every feature. He gently tucked her hair behind her ears, brushing the sensitive tips lightly and sending an involuntary shiver through her. He smiled gently. “You are amazing,” he whispered. “You did the impossible, and you did it with kindness and dedication, winning the hearts of thousands, mine included. I told you once that Andraste herself could not have chosen a better person for the trials we faced, and I still believe it with all my being. My only regret that it has brought you so much pain,” he said, his forehead wrinkling in concern and regret. “I wish that I could take it away; know that I would if I could. The only thing I know how to offer is my love, and the knowledge that I never doubted you.”

Elaira felt as if he had lit an ember in her, thawing her frozen core from the inside. She forgot everything but Cullen’s arms around her, his trusting, reverent gaze; his unwavering belief in her. Her hand reached up and tangled itself in his hair, pulling his lips to hers in a sudden instinctual need to be alive, to feel just how much he believed in her, that he _needed_ her as much as she needed him. Electricity shot down her body, feeling his mouth hot and hard on hers as if needing the same reassurance: that she was there with him, alive and whole, that she _lived._ His arms tightened almost painfully around her, crushing her to his body as he kissed her like a man possessed. 

Elaira’s toes curled and her whole body seemed to ignite in response before Cullen seemed to rein himself in and he loosened his grip, pulling back and kissing her tenderly, as if apologizing. She whimpered as the pressure lessened, arching her body back into his feverishly, _needing_ him to let go of his restraint as much as she needed to let go of her own. She pulled her head away slightly, looking at him as she raked her teeth along his lip, tugging roughly on his hair. A look of surprise crossed his face as he groaned softly into her mouth. His eyes seemed to go molten as he realized just what it was she needed from him; Cullen growled as he gave in to his instincts and moved to claim her.

He gripped her tightly as he rolled, pinning her beneath him on the bed, his tongue pressing deep into her mouth, gliding over hers possessively. She arched into his body, the sensation of her breasts rubbing against the hair of his chest drawing another moan from her. Elaira raked her fingers down his neck and back, her short nails dragging against his skin. Cullen hissed, gripping her tighter around the waist with one arm, pressing her into the hard planes of his body. His mouth left hers and made a trail of fire down her jaw and neck. She felt a hot coil winding up in her belly, tighter and tighter, her desire slicking her thighs as she panted, her heart racing.

His other hand slid down her shoulder, leaving her skin tingling and her body aching, stretching and arching itself into his instinctually. He cupped her breast, gently brushing over her hardened nipple before pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. She threw her head back, gasping for breath, her whimpers urging him on as her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his back. His tongue was hot against the sensitive skin at the base of her neck as he slid his hand down, roughly pulled her thigh up against him. She wrapped it around his hip instinctually, drawing her body closer to him. She could feel his arousal, hot and firm _so so close_ to the cooling wetness exposed between her legs. 

“Oh gods, Cullen, yes…” she gasped, grabbing his ass and trying to drag him closer to her, _into_ her, her body acting of its own volition, craving his touch. He pulled his body downwards across hers, breaking her grasp, his mouth reaching her breasts and closing over her aching nipples. She cried out in pleasure as he sucked on her, his hand working at the other breast as his hot tongue dragged across the sensitive peaks, her mind spinning. Her hips ground against his thigh, pressing her sex into his taut muscles and sending a shock of pleasure up through her body as she cried out again wordlessly. Cullen shifted his body again, rolling himself completely onto her, spreading her legs with his as he sucked at her other nipple. She writhed, feeling his cock pressed against her belly, her body on _fire,_ her mind overwhelmed with the animal need to feel him inside her, to feel his hands gripping her hips with all their strength, wanting to feel nothing but the indescribable pleasure of _being claimed as his._

She felt his hand slide down her stomach, achingly slowly, she pressed her body up, trying to urge him on. He growled against her breast, suddenly pushing her arms above her head, pinning her wrists with one hand and immobilizing her body with the weight of his, his arousal pressing into her stomach. His mouth claimed hers, kissing her feverishly, as if he was dying of thirst and she was a well; his tongue tangled with hers as his other hand slowly continued downwards and stroked the wetness between her thighs. Elaira moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking against his feather-light touch, her body hyper-sensitive and aching for him, for release. 

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips. “Please, Cullen.” 

He moaned and assaulted her mouth, kissing her hard as he pushed his fingers into her, swallowing her half-scream as her body arched in pleasure against his. Elaira felt his fingers gently stroke her, moving in and out of her body as his thumb stroked her nub, even this light touch sending waves of heat coursing through her as the coil in her belly went oh so _tight-tight-tight_ and she felt as if she’d incinerate. Her hips strained against his legs, still holding her down, needing to press her sex into his hand, to feel more than the teasing touch he gave her. Elaira felt her body nearing the breaking point, about to snap and send her tumbling over the abyss, when his hand left her. _So close so close soclose..._ She moaned and writhed, trying to find him again. 

Cullen rolled fully on her again, still holding her arms with one hand and _finally finally YES_ burying himself completely into her wetness with a groan echoing her own. Elaira felt full to bursting, her body finally filled with his hard heat, the taut weight of his body pressing into her, electrifying every nerve. Elaira pushed her hips against his, wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him in as far as possible. Cullen kissed her feverishly as he slowly pulled out of her, whispering against her lips “Come for me, Elaria.”

She lost control. 

He rolled his hips against hers, pushing into her again and again as she screamed her release, her climax seeming to last a lifetime. Everything that had been building inside her, all the doubt and pain and fear and loss washed away in what felt like endless waves of pleasure as Cullen made love to her, commanding her body to _let go_ and find release. He shifted, letting her arms go as he sat up, kneeling, pulling her hips up against him as he continued thrusting into her, watching her body writhe in pleasure as he claimed her. “Look at me, love,” he said, his voice rough.

She watched the muscles of his body ripple as he took her, moaned as he reached out one hand, tightly cupping one of her bouncing breasts and massaging the sensitive nipple. Elaira arched herself up, pressing herself into his hand, bracing herself on the headboard as she thrust back against his cock, her ecstasy redoubling, relentless, sweeping her up like a leaf in a tempest. Elaira felt as if she was flame incarnate, her entire existence narrowed to the feeling of his hands on her body, his cock thrusting into her, filling her to bursting and winding her up so tight she thought her body would break under the tension. She felt his other hand rest against her sex, stroking her clit with his thumb as he thrust into her, urging her again to let go, _come for me my love._

Her mouth opened wordlessly as the waves of pleasure overtook her body, her muscles locking as she feverishly pressed herself against him. Cullen’s touch became more insistent as he took her faster, pushing her down the abyss. All her existence focused down to the undeniable pressure as it burst up from inside her, the movements of his body igniting every nerve of her skin. Elaira thought she was screaming but all she knew was earthshattering ecstasy as he drew her orgasm out, her body frantically meeting his thrusts as she lost all sense of control and self; knowing only _him,_ her whole existence centered on the relentless pace with which he pushed into her, drawing her higher and higher. She felt his pace falter, and with a guttural moan echoing her own cries he released inside her, heat pooling in her belly, his whole body tightening in ecstasy as his fingers dug into her hips. 

They clung together, riding out the waves of their pleasure, before he slowly lowered her body back into the bed. Cullen leaned his body forward to lay across hers, unwilling to end their joining and leave the warmth between her legs. Resting his weight on his elbows, he trailed gentle kisses across her face – forehead, eyelids, cheeks, ears, lips; caressing her with his love as she slowly came back down and her breath slowed. She hummed in pleasure under him, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding him close, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. 

“Better?” he asked quietly, lips pressed to her temple.

Elaira laughed breathlessly, marveling at how she felt. It was if she had been reborn in his arms; the place where fear and doubt had lived was an empty hole within her, leaving nothing but light and joy in its place. She turned her head and kissed him gently, lovingly, pouring all the bliss she felt into the brushing of their lips and tongues. As they pulled back she smiled at him, green eyes dancing with happiness. 

“Perfect.”


	13. Confrontation

“Commander, a word?”

Cullen looked up from his desk to find Vivienne standing in the doorway to his tower. He straightened, surprised. “Madame de Fer, please come in.” Vivienne had never paid him a visit before. He preferred it that way, though, as he found some of her opinions rather… distasteful. _Reminding me of my own distasteful past..._ Cullen watched her warily as she shut the door behind her and gazed about his tower. 

“My dear, do you really sleep in here?”

Cullen felt his face flush slightly. “Yes, well, it’s simple but it suits me fine.” He paused as she noticed the hole in the roof, a look of surprise flitting across her face before she regained her carefully neutral expression. 

“I have… intended to get the roof repaired but there are many more important repairs to Skyhold that have priority…” He stopped himself. _Why am I defending this to her?_ He cleared his throat. “Is there something you needed?”

Vivienne turned her cat-like gaze upon him as she stepped up to his desk. “Commander Cullen, it’s come to my attention that you have developed a... relationship, with the Inquisitor. One that goes beyond your duty as Commander.” She looked at him steadily.

 _What business of hers…_ Cullen felt a surge of anger and annoyance. He paused a moment, working to keep his expression and voice calm. “I wasn’t aware that my ‘relations’ were something that required your attention, Lady Vivienne.”

Vivienne gave him a look that was nothing short of condescending. “Commander, you cannot be unaware that the Inquisitor a _very_ public figure. Her choice of suitor can directly affect the success or failure of the Inquisition itself - who it can woo as allies, and who it may make as enemies. Her personal affection is perhaps her most valuable asset, besides her Mark.” 

She tapped his desk for emphasis. “She is _the_ most eligible woman in Thedas, not to mention a religious icon of growing importance. Surely as a religious man you can understand how it could look for anyone, much less the Commander of the Inquisition, to be _bedding_ the most holy Herald of Andraste. How it could affect public opinion, public _faith_ in the Inqusition? Not to mention how many potential allies we may lose if they feel she is no longer eligible for a more... permanent alliance.”

Cullen felt the control on his anger slipping with each sentence. He jabbed his desk with his finger, if only to stop it from going into the haughty mage’s chest. “ _Elaira_ is a woman, not a political pawn. She has given her heart and soul to this Inquisition of her own free will. I am not ignorant of her importance _or_ her visibility.”

Cullen lowered his voice, and couldn’t help the menace in it as he walked around his desk towards Vivienne. “However, I will not let you nor anyone else use her feelings as a pawn in your political games. She is not a piece of chattel, her hand in marriage is not a bargaining chip for you or Josephine or Leliana to wield… She has sacrificed _too much_ of herself already. I am the _first_ to say I am unworthy of her affections; but it is her choice to make, not yours.”

He stood directly in front of Vivienne, looming over her, his anger gathered around him like a stormcloud. Vivienne stared at him coldly. “Your dalliance is not worth risking the Inquisition for, Commander. However enjoyable it may be for you.”

“What… is this about?” Elaira asked.

Cullen and Vivienne both looked to the doorway in surprise. The Inquisitor herself stood there, hands on her hips, slowly looking back and forth between them. _Damn elven rogues. I can never hear her coming…_

Vivienne nodded coolly at her. “My dear, I was just discussing the implications of your increasingly-visible relationship with the Commander. Given your position as Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, and the precarious political climate we are maneuvering in, I’m sure you can see that such a relationship is... ill-advised.”

Cullen watched Elaira as she listened to Vivienne. Her face remained impassive except her eyes, which flashed in anger as Vivienne talked; her body slowly tensed as if preparing to strike, her hands flexing slightly as if wishing she had her blades in them. Cullen briefly worried that she would reach for the weapons undoubtedly secreted on her person and attack the mage. _If she did, I would be sorely tempted to help her…_

The Inquisitor drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she stared at the other woman for several moments. “Lady Vivienne. I… _appreciate_ that where you come from, love and sex is just another part of the Great Game, a political tool.” 

Elaira stepped closer to the other woman, almost stalking her, her voice lowering. “But my _heart,_ my _body_ is not a political tool, for you or anyone else. I agreed to… fulfill… my role as Herald, for the sake of closing the Breach. I agreed to become Inquisitor to defeat Corypheus and restore order.” She pointed her finger at Vivienne. “I will do my part for the Inquisition, play its political games, smile or even flirt with the right people if I have to. But I will _not_ offer up my body or my true affections to anyone not of _my_ choosing. I will _not_ deny myself love for the sake of _appearances._ ” She practically spat out the last word. She drew her body up, staring coldly at the other woman. 

“The Commander and I have already agreed that our relationship is best kept private, for reasons that do not concern you. It is _our_ desire that knowledge of it does not leave Skyhold, and Leliana is ensuring that is the case. You will have to be content with _that_ Vivienne, for it is the only concession you will get from me on the matter.”

Elaira turned away from the other woman and stared hard out the window beyond Cullen’s desk.

Vivienne smiled at Elaira’s back, showing no indication that she was intimidated by the Inquisitor’s barely-controlled fury. “As you wish, my dear.” She nodded to Cullen. “I will let you get back to your work, Commander. Inquisitor.” The mage swept out of Cullen’s tower, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Elaira closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath, leaning on his desk. Cullen tentatively reached out and touched her shoulder, brushing her skin gently with his thumb. Her face slowly crumpled and she tumbled into his chest, gasping, hot tears running down her face. He wrapped his arms around her, sighing.

“I give _everything_ to them,” Elaira gasped, her voice still angry despite her tears. “ _How_ could she ask me to give... You are all that keeps me sane, sometimes; all that keeps me _me…_ ” She pressed her face into the fur of his cloak. “Please, Cullen, please don’t consider what she asked, don’t leave me…”

Cullen never failed to be amazed that she seemed to need him as desperately as he needed her. He stroked her hair. “Andraste herself couldn’t tear me from your side, as long as you want me there.” She looked up at him, her face red and tear-streaked. He smiled gently at her. “Besides, I’d be a poor Commander if I disobeyed a direct order from the Inquisitor herself.”

She smiled at him through her tears, relief erasing the worry lines from her forehead. She settled back against his chest, sighing. Cullen leaned his head on hers, his eyes closing as he prayed silently.

_Maker, please… Help me grow from the scarred shell I was to be the man she believes me to be. Help me see her through this war alive, sound of body and mind…_


	14. The Other View

Dorian leaned against the bookshelf, staring out the window. 

“Go on, love. What are you waiting for?” he whispered to the small figure hesitating on the walkway below. Elaira turned as if hearing him, staring up to the library window. _She finally gets up the nerve to do it then chickens out right before the follow through._

Dorian was fairly certain she couldn’t see him but he made a shooing motion with his hands anyway. He sighed as the figure stood there, seeming to stare across the walkway at Cullen’s tower. _Vishante kaffas! He’s already yours, you just need to march in there and claim him._

As if bolstered by his thoughts, Elaira finally walked across to the tower, pushing open the heavy wooden door and closing it behind her. Dorian let out a gusty breath, excited and relieved. “It’s about bloody time,” he muttered to himself.

He lingered by the window, mindlessly re-categorizing the tomes stacked in front of it, unable to leave his vantage point until he saw Elaira depart the tower again. _Just looking out for her. Not at all interested in finding out all the sordid details about what is happening in that tower…_

He snuck a glance out the window, and was surprised to see Elaira and Cullen walking across the ramparts. _She went in there to ravish the man and instead they’re going on… a walk?_

He leaned against the stonework, watching them walk into an abandoned, broken tower. _Oh, clever girl, going somewhere where messengers are less likely to find them…_

Dorian wanted to throw the book in his hand when they came out the other side. With a growing sense of panic he saw them amble into another crumbling watchtower and out of his line of sight. Dropping the book, Dorian left the window, startling the other patrons as he ran out of the library, swearing incoherently. He dashed across the great hall and out to the courtyard, sweeping up the stairs on the far side, scanning the walkway at the top as he gasped for breath. 

He saw the couple on the battlements near the second ruined tower, facing each other, seemingly deep in talk. _Probably the weather, knowing these two._ Dorian sighed, leaning on the wall as he caught his breath. _This is dreadful. If I had gone with her in the first place they’d be in bed together by now. Or on a desk…_

Dorian smirked at the imagery his thoughts conjured up before his breath caught, seeing Cullen slowly stalk towards the Inquisitor, trapping her against the stonework. He silently cheered the man on, feeling like ages passed in the time it took him to reach her and lean in…

He nearly threw a fireball at the idiotic scout that burst out from the tower, somehow managing to track down the pair with some useless document in hand. _Probably tonight’s dinner menu, for fuck’s sake._ He chuckled softly when Cullen apparently put the fear of the Maker into the scout. The poor man cowered, backing away from the Commander before beating a hasty retreat back through the tower. 

His heart sank as Elaira seemed to lose all confidence with the interruption, blushing furiously and fidgeting. He knew her well enough to tell she was about to run away. Dorian swore softly. _That is IT, I’m intervening…_ He pushed off the wall, thinking furiously about how to salvage the situation when Cullen, finally finding his nerve, turned back to Elaira and trapped her against the stonework with a passionate kiss. Dorian grinned, relaxing back against the wall, his heart soaring with joy as his absurdly fumbling friends finally found each other’s lips. 

After a while they pulled apart; he saw Elaira flash a brilliant smile up at Cullen before they kissed again, arms wrapping around each other, oblivious to the soldiers on patrol who silently tiptoed past them, grinning widely. Dorian sighed wistfully. _That was infinitely harder than it needed to be, but they got there in the end._ He felt a familiar twinge of sadness curl through his heart as he watched the couple. _If only I could be so lucky..._

Dorian shook his head again, trying to shed the unwelcome feeling of self-pity; deciding that this long-awaited kiss called for a celebration. _But first things first, time to claim my winnings._

He left the ramparts, whistling, in search of Varric and The Iron Bull.


	15. Prepare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Things have been a lot busier than I expected, and are likely to stay that way for a while. I will update as I can. <3

Her hands were shaking.

She squeezed them into fists, trying to will her fear away. Pain crackled up her left arm, the Mark spitting and sparking with renewed fury ever since Corypheus reopened the Breach.

_At least it doesn’t hurt as much as before._

What she had learned from using and controlling the Mark seems to have helped; it wasn’t bringing her to her knees like the day she woke with it. Still, the Breach made it restless, and she was worried that was gaining strength. She smiled grimly.

_I have the feeling that it won’t get the chance to kill me._

Elaira hugged herself, forcing herself to face the truth.

_I am going to die today._

She fought down the rising panic the words brought, refusing to shed the angry, fearful tears welling in her eyes. She forced the frigid air in and out of her lungs deliberately, savoring each breath, gripping the stone balustrade. She looked out across the Frostback Mountains, drinking in all the shades of this, her final sunset, memorizing the pale violets, blues, and pinks painted across the frozen peaks.  The colors faded inexorably, despite every fiber in her being willing it to never end. Elaira closed her eyes, sinking into her mind, willing her thoughts and emotions to quiet, closeting away the buzzing, chaotic fear into the furthest recesses of her mind.

_Still water. The peace of the forest at dawn. I am the hunter of the woods. I am the Inquisitor. He fears me - and I will prevail…_

She took one last deep breath, then turned and went into her room.

“Elaira.”

He was there, waiting for her. _Cullen_ , her commander, her advisor, her lover; standing by her desk, his face pale despite his outwardly calm appearance. Elaira swallowed hard, quickly stepping over to him, allowing herself to be engulfed in his embrace. She breathed in his scent, willing her mind to remember the feeling of his arms around her, his breath warming her neck. Their embrace ended too soon - _eternity would be too soon_ \- but both knew they had no more time. Fate had caught up to them, to her, and there could be no more delays.

Cullen pulled back, placing a kiss in her freshly braided hair.

“Will you let me help you prepare?” he asked, leaning his forehead against hers.

Elaira nodded, fighting down her rising fear.

_Memorize every feature of his face_. 

Together they went to her armor stand, Elaira removing her outer robe and donning her silks as she had a hundred times before. Her lover began wrapping her in weapons and armor, expertly buckling and binding each piece, whispering prayers to his Maker for her protection and safe return.  Elaira silently prayed to the Elven gods, never taking her eyes off him.

_Mythal, Elgar’nan, Andruil  - give me victory. Allow me to return to him, to live to a foolish old age by his side_.

Too soon, Cullen was finished. He cupped her face in his hands.

_They’re trembling._

“You will return to me.” He whispered, kissing her forehead. “Andraste protect you,” he continued, kissing her cheeks. “Mythal and Andruil guide you.”

He looked at her, his golden eyes strangely bright in the dimming light. “ _Ar lath ma, ma vhenan._ ”

His lips were hot on hers, sending electricity shooting down her spine. Their bodies pressed together, desperately seeking comfort despite the layers of armor and weapons between them.  Her hands gripped his mantle, reveling in the feeling of Cullen’s strength surrounding her, flooding her with warmth, drowning out her fear.

_Safe, protected, loved._

A knock echoed up the stairwell, followed by footsteps. They refused to part until Dorian softly called out, his voice dull and full of regret.

“Elaira, love, I’m sorry. It’s time.”

She pulled back from Cullen, staring into his eyes, gathering her strength. 

_Fight for this, live for this._  

“I love you,” she whispered.

He said it one last time.

“You will come back to me.” 


	16. Tinder

She didn’t mean to stare.

Elaira had been aimlessly wandering through Haven; her party had returned the night before from a follow-up trip through the Hinterlands. She needed to meet with Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine to discuss new developments and strategy, but the Inquisition’s leaders were busy with other commitments until the following evening. Elaira was miraculously left alone for the first time in over a month. She slept in shamefully late, ate a lazy breakfast at the tavern, then decided to go on a stroll through the mountain village and see what changes had occurred in her absence.

She ended up in the forge first, perched on a barrel in the corner, watching the smiths craft armor and weapons until the heat got too overwhelming. She left the building and wandered over to the training grounds. She was surprised at how many more recruits there were compared to last time she was at Haven. Despite the Chantry denouncing the Inquisition a constant influx of people still came, seeking sanctuary, adventure, or both.

_I guess all our hard work is finally paying off._

She worked her way past the orderly rows of tents and saw a knot of soldiers practicing slightly apart from the rest. Curious, she made her way over to a newly cleared training area - and _that_ is when the trouble started.

Commander Cullen was leading the group of recruits in advanced combat training. Rigorous training, apparently, since he and many of the other men in the ring had stripped down to nothing but their boots and breeches, wielding practice swords and shields as they faced off, sweat glistening on their bodies despite the cold air. After a minute Elaira realized she was staring, but a quick glance around reassured her that the other people gathered nearby were focused on the recruits and not her. She passed silently behind a group gathered along the ring’s fence and stole around to the far side of a tree. Safely out of sight of the crowd, she leaned against the trunk and watched.

None of the warriors in the group were elven, and just how tall and muscular human men were was still a revelation to her. She found herself staring shamelessly at the Commander as he moved among his men, encouraging and berating them as needed, at times joining their sparring to demonstrate a technique.

_Cullen is so much more confident here…_

Elaira’s eyes wandered, appreciating how the sunlight glistened off the sweat on his torso, and her ears picked up quiet murmurs from the nearby crowd.

 _“He’s so handsome…”_  
_“I wonder if he took vows of chastity…”_  
_“I have it on good authority he didn’t.”_  
_“D’you think the Commander will eat at the tavern tonight? I made a new dress with that fabric…”_

Elaira’s mood darkened as she listened to the women admiring Cullen. She tried to brush it off, confused as to why she even cared. _He is quite handsome, I suppose, and incredibly fun to tease, but he’s not really my type. Besides, he’s the Commander, I have to work with him. Professionally…_

The thought died in her head as he hefted his shield, facing off with one of the trainees. She bit her bottom lip, watching his muscles ripple as he moved, remarkably fast, disarming the other man and flattening him into the dirt within a few seconds. Elaira felt a flash of annoyance as several women in the crowd squealed and clapped in delight. Smiling, seemingly oblivious to his admirers, Cullen offered his hand to the recruit and pulled him back up, the other man grinning ruefully in return.

_Clearly he’s admired among those he commands as well, not just the women of Haven._

Cullen said something to the recruit, then started towards the fence where they had left their armor and the crowd had gathered to watch. Still laughing at the other man’s rejoinder, he turned his head and his eyes locked onto hers. Frozen, an unexpected bolt of electricity shooting through her, Elaira felt a blush creeping onto her face. She wasn’t sure _why_ she was embarrassed but she couldn’t help feeling like she had been caught doing something incredibly naughty. Cullen paused a moment, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Then, unexpectedly, his mouth curled into a smirk as he started towards her, practically _swaggering,_ never breaking eye contact. She felt her jaw drop open as his eyes burned into her.

_By the Gods, that smile…_

Cullen had always been incredibly shy and awkward when anything in their conversation strayed beyond Inquisition matters. She had never _not_ had the upper hand when they spoke, getting an impish delight out of teasing him, making suggestive comments just to see him blush and hear him stutter. Clearly adrenaline or being in his element, or both, had given him a massive dose of confidence.

_This is not the same man who fumbled through my questions on Templar vows of chastity last time we talked…_

He literally smoldered as he walked, steam rising off his body into the cold air. She forced herself to look him in the eye and not stare at his naked torso. _Creators above, Elaira, shut your damn mouth._

Standing only a couple feet away from her, he leaned the practice weapons against the fence. He took up a towel, still staring at her with that damned half smile as he wiped the sweat from his face and neck. _That smirk alone that could bring armies to its knees._ He flipped the towel onto his shoulder, one hand still holding the end of it as he rested the other on the fence. Cullen nodded at her, nonchalantly.

“Herald. I take it you approve?”

Elaira’s mouth betrayed her and dropped open again. She was completely unprepared to deal with this new Cullen; a confident, ridiculously handsome, half naked warrior steaming in front of her like a messenger from the Gods themselves. She wasn’t sure how long she gawked at him but she knew it was an awkwardly long time, watching his smirk intensify as he enjoyed finally having the upper hand on her.

 _How would it feel to have his hands on me..._ Her mind refused to think of anything but _entirely not appropriate_ things, but she forced her mouth to form words anyway.

“Yes, it’s very good. You’re in fine shape. I mean, you know. Your army is looking good. Not that you’re not looking good, you look very good as well.” She snapped her mouth shut. _FUCK._

He chuckled softly, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement at her embarrassment. _This is a disaster, I have got to get out of here before I immolate on the spot._ Elaira pushed off the tree, running her fingers nervously through her hair. “Yes well I have to go, important things to do. Herald… stuff.”

She turned and fled but the part of her brain that was still functional told her it wasn’t very dignified for the Herald of Andraste to be seen flat out _running_ from the Inquisition’s Commander. She walked as quickly as she could, instead, trying to think of anything but that smirk. She went back to her cabin and threw herself into bed, annoyed and embarrassed. She groaned and buried her face into her pillow, realizing she’d have to face Cullen in the War Room in just a few hours.

After a few minutes of wallowing in embarrassment, she rolled over and picked up the book next to her bed, trying to take her mind off what happened. Her eyes stared at the words on the page, unseeing; her mind endlessly replaying how he gracefully he moved as he fought, muscles rippling; how she felt as if she’d catch on fire when he looked at her; how the suggestion in his voice sent a thrill through her body; how that damned smile undid her so easily… She dropped the book and punched her pillow weakly in frustration.

 _He was just messing with me. Revenge for all the times I teased him. It should not bother me this much._ She sighed, staring at the cover of the book, her stomach sinking as realization dawned.

_Oh no. No no no. I cannot have a thing for the Commander of the Inquisition…_


	17. Chess

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

Elaira had been wandering through Skyhold’s garden, admiring how the plants had grown in the weeks she’d been gone. Her royal elfroot was a foot taller, and the blueberry bushes in the corner were blooming. How the magic here kept the bitter cold mountain air at bay was a mystery, but one she was grateful for. She loved spending time in the garden, surrounded by the peaceful hum of the beekeeper’s hive and the scent of moist earth and growing things. It helped her forget some of the horrors she saw outside the safety of Skyhold’s walls.

She kneeled and pulled a dandelion from the bed of peas when she overheard an unmistakable pair of voices. _Dorian and Cullen. They must be playing chess…_

Elaira stood, brushing the dirt from her hands onto her already dirty leggings. She saw the stains and mud smeared across them and sighed. _Josephine is going to be mad. Again._

Turning, she walked towards the wall where the chess table was set up. As she got closer and the voices more distinct her feet slowed, not quite sure what she was overhearing.

“…you can’t be telling me you and the Inquisitor have _never_ tried it? My dear Commander you’ve no idea what you’re missing!”

She heard Cullen give a short laugh. “Oh and you do? We both know you don’t want anything to do with women in bed.”

Elaira leaned against a pillar, hidden from sight thanks to the lush vines climbing up it. Dorian’s voice sounded indignant as he replied. “Just because I’d prefer _your_ strapping body in my bed doesn’t mean I don’t understand how to please the fairer sex. I know a great many things about men _and_ women, learned directly from some very _experienced_ ladies!”

Elaira could almost hear Cullen’s blushing. “Elaira and I… Our…” He sighed. “It is _more_ than satisfying, Dorian.” She heard the _clunk_ of a chess piece moving. Elaira smiled to herself, remembering how they spent the previous night exploring each other, tangled in the sheets of Cullen’s bed.

Dorian chuckled. “Ah, my handsome Commander, I have no doubt bedding you would be anything less than spectacular; yet there is _always_ room for improvement. You have to be open to some… creativity, lest things get dull.”

“Maker’s breath.” There was silence for a moment, then Cullen stammered out, “I don’t see h-how… you would even… ” He paused, clearing his throat, and Elaira stifled a giggle. Cullen tried again. “How do you get to that… position?”

Elaira could envision the self-satisfied smile Dorian must’ve had on his face as his laughter rang out. “My dear Commander.” There was the faint rustle of robes and his voice lowered. “Our Elaira is the Inquisitor out here, always having to be the one in charge, the one making decisions, the one in whom all our hopes rest. I’m sure she’d be delighted to have someone _else_ be in charge when she’s in the bedroom. Do what you’re best at and _command_ her; I have the feeling you and dear Elaira will both be delighted with the results.”

Elaira felt her heartbeat quicken, her body flooding with heat as she imagined what it would feel like to be helpless, naked, at Cullen’s mercy as he did what he wanted to her. _Gods above..._

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Cullen sigh. “I will keep your suggestion… under advisement. It is your move…”

Dorian clapped in excitement. “Excellent. Just remember, sweet and loving is well and good, but sometimes _she_ needs you to _be her Commander._ See what happens. Then tell me what happens, I’m dying to know.”

Elaira clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her giggles as she quietly sneaked back through the gardens. She broke out into a run once she was far enough away, stopping only to grab a runner. A silly grin plastered to her face, she instructed him to find the Commander, to tell him that she needed to speak with him, urgently, in her quarters. The runner nodded at her, his eyes wide with confusion as he took in her grinning, breathless, disheveled appearance. As he jogged away Elaira shut the door to her room behind her, her heart racing with excitement. She made her way up the stairs, stripping her clothes off as she went, leaving an unmistakable message trailing up into the main room. She stretched out naked in her bed, feeling the heat and excitement coiling in her belly as she waited for her lover’s arrival.

Only a minute had passed when she heard the door creak open followed by a faint _“Maker’s breath.”_ The door shut again, and her heart thudded in her chest as she heard the unmistakable sound of the bolt sliding home. Her mouth curled into a grin and the heat between her legs pulsed at the sound of Cullen’s footsteps echoing up the stairs.

_Time to see how good this advice was…_


	18. Gossip

“Come on Josie, you must have something juicy you can share. You were in talks with the Comtesse all day yesterday and everyone knows she’s a horrible gossip.”

Leliana leaned back in her chair, cradling her glass of wine, smiling slyly at her friend. Elaira, her plate jammed full of miniature pastries, cakes, and cookies, looked at the Ambassador expectantly, chewing on a small berry tart. Josephine tapped her wineglass with a perfectly manicured finger as she thought. Suddenly her face brightened.

“Do you recall the Duke de Freyen when he visited us before?”

Elaira shook her head, sipping at her wine before popping a small cake in her mouth. Leliana nodded, giggling. “Yes, he applies his perfume a bit too strongly for my taste.” She grinned at Elaira. “You were lucky to have been away from Skyhold. He was a terrible flirt.”

Josephine smiled smugly. “Well, I have it on good authority that his wife, the Duchess, is with child. But the child _is not his!_ ”

Elaira blinked in surprise. Leliana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No! Who is the father?”

Josephine gestured vaguely with her glass. “It’s not certain. But the current belief is that the father was a young Antivan merchant who passed through their holdings several months ago. Apparently she was quite taken with him.”

Leliana laughed. “Oh the scandal!”

Elaira giggled, taking a sip of her own wine. “If he’s a terrible flirt with everyone he meets then it seems like poetic justice to me.” Leliana and Josephine murmured agreement, sipping their own drinks. Leliana turned her gaze to Elaira, her smile becoming slightly more predatory as she looked at her over the rim of the glass.

“And how about _your_ love life? Is Cullen as thorough and dedicated in bed as he is at his command?”

Elaira nearly choked on the cookie she was eating. She coughed and finished her mouthful before throwing a grin at Leliana. “Well I can’t claim to be the most experienced woman but I have no complaints.”

Josephine hummed in delight, smiling wistfully. “It is all so romantic. The Commander cuts such a dashing figure. It is just like the fairytales my mother would read me as a child.”

Elaira smiled warmly at Josephine, slightly embarrassed, but Leliana shook her head. “Romance is all well and good, but we all know about that already,” she said. “We’re here to gossip. Tell us something racy!”

Elaira giggled, her cheeks reddening. “Hmm. Racy…” she mulled, twisting her glass in her fingertips.

Josephine leaned forward. “Your first… time… together, did he do something romantic? Did he light candles for you, give you roses and serve you fine wine and chocolates?” She sighed wistfully. “I have always imagined something like that…”

Elaira’s laughter rang across the room. “Oh Josie. It was wonderful but it was not like that at all!”

Leliana smiled, triumphant, her eyes eager. “Then tell us!”

Elaira hesitated. “Cullen would die if he knew I told anyone…”

Josephine and Leliana looked at each other then back at Elaira. “Elaira. We would never tell a soul. What we talk about here is never shared, you know that.”

Elaira pursed her lips a moment, considering. _Well why not. Besides, it is a good story._

She smiled at the other two women. “Well, I had just got back to Skyhold earlier that day, and after a long bath and lunch I went to his office. He was meeting with some of his soldiers, so I snuck in and loitered against the wall until he saw me. And… his meeting ended shortly after.” Elaira smirked and the other two women giggled.

“He kicked everyone out. We talked for a bit and… well.” Elaira felt her cheeks heat, unsure about how to describe it. _There’s no real way to dance around this, is there?_

She swallowed, then the words came out in a rush. “Well, we did it on his desk.”

Leliana and Josephine both stared at her in shocked silence. Leliana recovered first, laughing once, her eyes wide in disbelief. “No!” she exclaimed.

Elaira laughed as well. “Yes, I swear it. He swept everything off his desk right to the floor and…” She swept her arm out in front of her in pantomime then shrugged, looking impish. “Anyway. It’s very sturdy.” Josephine’s eyes widened as Elaira talked, and Leliana leaned back in her chair, grinning.

“That… is astonishing.” Leliana sipped her wine, eyes twinkling. “I would’ve never guessed he’d do _that._ ”

Josephine took a healthy swig of her own glass, looking slightly flustered. “That was… most unexpected.” Elaira giggled, raising her eyebrows as she downed the rest of her wine.

Leliana leaned forward in her chair to ask another question when a knock sounded loudly at the door. The three women looked up, surprised. Josephine set down her glass and called out, “Come in?”

The door swung open and Cullen walked through, carrying a sheaf of papers in one hand. He nodded at the trio of women and glanced at the trays of sweets and bottles of wine.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Cullen shuffled through the papers in his hand. “But I was clearing off my desk and came across some interesting reports…” Leliana made a strangled sound and all three women started laughing hysterically. Cullen stared at them in astonishment, utterly confused. Elaira slowly slid down in her chair, red faced and nearly crying as she cradled her plate of desserts. Josephine put her hand over her eyes, shoulders shaking with mirth. Cullen stood there, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to understand what just happened.

“I’m… sorry. Did I miss something?” he tentatively asked.

Leliana, gasping for breath, waved at him vaguely as she tried to regain control. “Cullen… I’m sorry. We’re just…” She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and then tried again. “You said you were clearing off your desk?”

Elaira’s snorted, curling up in her chair in a renewed fit of giggling, setting off Leliana and Josephine’s laughter again as well. Cullen shifted in place, unsure of what to do. He waited patiently for a few more moments but eventually sighed in resignation. “I can see you ladies are occupied. Perhaps we can discuss this another time?”

Josephine nodded her head at him, tears running down her face. Cullen turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Peals of laughter were still audible through the thick door. He shook his head as he walked back to his office, his face bright red.

_What in the Maker’s name just happened?_


	19. Skyhold

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, fingering the drab, brown-gray fabric. “Someone actually thought this was an article of clothing worth making?”

Josephine wrung her hands as Leliana snorted quietly behind her. “I’m sorry Inquisitor, but we left Haven with only a limited amount of supplies. Our allies have sent several caravans but they are waiting on our trailbreakers and will not arrive for another few days. I will have the tailors make you a wardrobe more to your liking as soon as possible.”

Elaira’s heart sank at the mention of Haven, her cheeks flushing red with shame over how shallow her words sounded against the backdrop of that recent horror. She set the shirt on the desk and gently touched the Ambassador’s arm. “No Josie, I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me to say. These will do fine.”

Josephine nodded silently, the stress and exhaustion of the past few days visible on her face despite her spotless appearance. Leliana spoke up. “We will leave you to rest, Inquisitor. Commander Cullen would like us to meet in the War Room this evening to review and prioritize the repairs to the keep.”

Elaira nodded and the two women quietly left the massive room assigned as her new chambers. Skyhold was much larger than Haven, and even in its current state of disrepair and neglect it was surprisingly elegant. Her advisors had immediately insisted the grand chambers off the great hall be given to Elaira, saying it was only fitting as Herald of Andraste and now the newly-minted Inquisitor. Despite her protestations. _I’d much rather have my little shack in Haven… or a tent deep in a forest somewhere…_ She sighed wistfully, looking out through the glass panes to the mountains. _The view is amazing, though._

She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face from the basin there. She looked at herself in the mirror as she patted her face dry. With Josephine’s carefully placed makeup gone, deep circles were visible under her eyes; scabbed-over cuts and scrapes were scattered across her cheeks and the bridge of her too-straight nose. Her hair was more tangled and chaotic than usual due to the gusting winds outside. Elaira sighed and undid the buttons on her shirt, revealing more wounds from the horrible battle at Haven scattered across her torso and arms. Angry purple bruises still throbbed on her side where her ribs had been broken, and on her arm where Corypheus had held her dangling, trying to reclaim the Mark. Seeing them sent a shiver down her spine as her mind flashed back to how helpless she was against Corypheus and his arch-demon; how effortlessly he tossed her against the trebuchet; the agony coursing through her body after waking up, having fallen into long-forgotten tunnels beneath Haven; how cold and hopeless she felt, staggering through the blizzard alone in the dark, looking for the Inquisition’s trail, praying to all the Gods that she wouldn’t come across Corypheus or his army instead.

She stared unseeing into the water basin, tears filling her eyes, remembering how she had crested one last rise and saw the Inquisition campfires flickering in the valley below. She had been on the verge of giving up, barely able walk through the deep snow - the sight of salvation had finally brought her to her knees. _I wasn’t sure that it was real; I thought I was dying, hallucinating…_

Then Cullen had appeared as if sent by the Gods themselves. Her heart tightened. _He came for me… He was searching for me._ Elaira closed her eyes, reliving the faint disjointed memories: his voice calling out her name as he ran to her; hearing him praying to his Maker as she laid helpless, wrapped in his cloak, surrounded by his scent, cradled in strong, warm arms. She remembered waking up in a tent, her body wrapped in bandages and furs. Cullen was still there, kneeling beside her bed, his head bowed. She felt so weak but had to touch him, to see if he was truly real. Elaira reached out a still-cold, trembling hand to brush against his hair. Cullen’s head snapped up and he leaned towards her, capturing her hand in one of his, the other gently caressing her face.

“Elaira,” he breathed. He gently tucked her hand back beneath the furs. “You are safe.” He smoothed her hair back gently. “You must rest now, sleep. We ran out of healing potions hours ago, the elfroot will take longer to work.” Her vision swam, her mind muddled. She struggled against the blackness closing in on her, she had to tell him how she felt before she died, but she couldn’t seem to form words. She held a half-formed memory of his lips brushing against her forehead…

She opened her eyes and looked at herself sadly in the mirror. _Not a true memory, a fevered hallucination. What I want, but not real…_

When she awoke, clear-headed, she was with Mother Giselle; weak but alive. They spent the past three days journeying to Skyhold, and Cullen never gave her any indication that what she remembered in the tent had truly happened. She looked at her reflection sadly. Her face was average at best, too strong to be called beautiful, and she was an elf to boot. _He is kind, and loyal, but I could never be what he wants. I am a friend, and needed for the Inquisition, nothing more…_

Tears welled up in her eyes again. She sighed and angrily wiped them away, then set about removing the last of her sullied clothes and tossing them in the basket. She cleaned days of filth from her body as best she could with a wet rag, then wearily padded to the bed. She drank the healing potion left for her and slid beneath the blankets. Exhausted, and succumbing to the mild sedative mixed into the elixir, Elaira quickly fell into a deep sleep.

_His fingers tangled gently in her hair as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Rest, my love,” he whispered._


	20. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!

"Elaira..."

He shoved her back against one of the bookcases of the hidden library, one hand gripping her waist and the other in her hair, his mouth insistent on hers and his armor digging into her breasts. Elaira whimpered, dropping the novel she had been reading, as her hands ran up his body and dug into his hair in return. _It has been too long._

Her mouth parted beneath his and their tongues tangled. She felt a shiver run through her whole body, goosebumps popping out as her lover pinned her. She shoved at his cloak and pauldrons, undoing the straps by memory and shoving them to the floor, desperate to find his flesh. _Over a month I have been denied this…_

His hand wandered up her stomach and cupped her breast through her thin shirt and Elaira gasped against his mouth. Cullen growled softly, his mouth making a trail of heat across her jaw and down her neck as she tugged urgently at the straps to his breastplate.

“Cullen,” she panted, breathless. “Armor… off. I need to feel you!”

He growled again, pulling back just enough to peel off his gloves with his teeth and lift off his breastplate. Elaira tore off her shirt and breastband, the heat between her legs intensifying as he stripped himself of his armor and undershirt. _Gods, he is too handsome…_

She pressed against the hard, naked planes of his chest, her mouth seeking his with renewed urgency. He wrapped his arms around her, gripping her body tightly as he turned and sat her on the edge of the reading table. She laughed breathlessly.

“Again with a table!”

Cullen smiled at her, predatory, as he pulled off her boots. “It went so well before,” he said, sliding his hands up the inside of her thighs slowly. “It’s worth another try.” Elaira moaned softly as he deliberately brushed his thumbs over her apex before setting his hands to work on her trouser laces. She sat up and wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him down into another searing kiss, sliding her tongue over his slowly as her other hand brushed against the bulge in his pants. The fire in her belly grew, her sex pulsing as Cullen moaned softly into her mouth. He pulled back as he tugged her trousers off feverishly.

His eyes drank in her naked body as she perched on the desk, breathless. “Maker, you’re so beautiful," he whispered, a smile teasing his lips.

Elaira blushed. They had not made love more than a handful of times, but every time he said it, and she every time she was amazed. Cullen stepped between her legs and pulled her against him, kissing her desperately, his skin like velvet fire against hers. The weeks they had been separated were culminating into a feverish need within them both, to be as close as possible; to make up the lost hours, the missed time. Elaira tugged the last of his trouser laces free and shoved his pants and smallclothes down, moaning as his rigid sex sprang free and pressed against her. Cullen gasped against her mouth.

 _“Elaira…”_ he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Maker help me but I need you.” He held her against his chest, nestled between her legs as she perched on the edge of the table. Elaira wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her, letting him feel how wet she was, how much she wanted him in return.

“I need you too,” she whispered, trembling with her own pent-up desire. “Please, Cullen… Take me…”

He groaned again, crushing her mouth beneath him, one hand pressing her to his chest as the other guided himself to her opening. Elaira gasped. _I have fantasized about this for weeks…_

As he pushed slowly inside, her head dropped back, moaning, as he filled her. “Oh Gods, Cullen, yes…” she gasped, eyes screwed shut as he seated fully, overwhelmed with the sensation of his hard heat stretching her, pressing deep into her sex.

His mouth dropped to her breast, moaning softly against her as he withdrew and slid into her again, slowly. She tightened her legs around him, drawing him as deep into her as possible, rocking her hips in time with his. Already she felt drawn taut as a bowstring, the sensation of him filling her, his chest pressed against her, his mouth hot and wet on her breast as his tongue slid teasingly around her nipple… She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and leveraged herself against the desk with the other, pressing her sex harder against his. His fingers dug into her hips as he thrusted into her more quickly, their long-awaited reunion lending a frantic urgency to their lovemaking. As he teased her other nipple with his lips and tongue, Elaira felt the coil in her belly wind tighter, relentlessly dragging her towards release. His kisses travelled across her breasts and up her chest and neck, ending at her ear where he suck and nipped gently at the sensitive lobes.

 _“Cullen!”_ Elaira cried as her orgasm crested, crashing over her. Her cries echoed in the small room as she thrust against him frantically, using the table as leverage. Cullen groaned in turn as he pounded into her. She felt his cock pulse inside her, shooting heat into her belly, sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through her body. Their movements eventually slowed. Cullen lowered his head to rest on her chest as they laid there, entangled, damp with sex and sweat, gasping for breath. He stirred after a few moments, and slowly pressed gentle kisses up her chest and neck, peppering her face with them as Elaira smiled and hummed in contentment.

“I’ve missed you.”


	21. Little Cures

“A puppy?”

Cullen stared down at Elaira in disbelief. Her face was turned up towards his in excitement, her eyes wide and a ridiculous, infectious grin plastered across her face. He found himself smiling back at her despite his desire to not encourage this new fascination. “Where would you keep a puppy?”

Elaira laughed and gestured vaguely at her chambers. “This… _room_ is absurdly huge. You don’t think a puppy would fit?”

Cullen chuckled. “But you’d have to take them out through the great hall every few hours to relieve themselves, there’s nowhere to go in here. You hate getting out of bed.”

She made a face at him. “ _Pshh,_ " she impishly blew a raspberry at him. “I can get out of bed if it’s worth it. There’s thousands of dead demons and a darkspawn magister that can attest to that.”

He tilted a grin at her. “You couldn’t seem to drag yourself out of bed this morning when Josephine wanted you there to greet the ambassador from Baron Desjardins.” 

“Well I don’t like Baron Desjardins or his ambassador. I _like_ puppies. Come _on,_ ” she said, leaning on his chest slightly and narrowing her eyes at him. “Fereldens love Mabari. Don’t tell me you never wanted one of your own.”

Cullen gave a half laugh and leaned back against her desk, taking her hands in his own. “I won’t deny that I dreamed of having one when I was a boy. Growing up, my family had a kind-hearted, shaggy grey mutt. She was no good at hunting or herding but she guarded us children day and night, following us everywhere. Sometimes I would pretend she was my loyal Mabari, helping me save the world from darkspawn and abominations…” Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. 

Elaira leaned into him, smiling. “See...” She lifted onto her toes to nuzzle his cheek with her nose before pressing a kiss into it. She turned her head slightly, whispering into his ear, “Close your eyes.”

Cullen leaned back slightly, eyeing her suspiciously. “Elaira…” he started.

She pressed a finger against his mouth, silencing him. “Close. Your. Eyes. Inquisitor’s orders.” She smiled at him smugly. Cullen sighed, staring at her dubiously for another moment before closing his eyes. _I have the feeling this was not a theoretical discussion…_

Elaira moved away from him, and he heard a few thumps and rustling noises. A few moments later she said, “You can open them now.” 

Cullen blinked. Elaira was standing in front of him, cradling a pair of cubby Mabari pups in her arms with a huge smile on her face. The pups wiggled in her arms restlessly. The lighter brown of the pair looked Cullen in the eye and started yelping excitedly, its wiggling redoubled. Elaira laughed and held out the pup to him. Cullen felt a grin spread across his face as he took the surprisingly heavy pup and cradled it against his chest. The Mabari yelped excitedly and licked his face. He laughed despite himself. 

“See, he’s taken to you already. I knew he would!” Elaira nuzzled the second pup, darker brown in color, which was trying to climb onto her shoulder. “They’re siblings. Strangely, one of the Orlesian houses we’re allied with is a renowned breeder of Mabari. They had a litter and offered a pair of pups to the Inquisition as a gift.” Cullen, still smiling and stroking the puppy in his arms, turned a skeptical look on her. 

“Offered them as a gift? You didn’t have to suggest it to them?”

Elaira stuck out her tongue at him then went back to nuzzling her own puppy. “I didn’t need to. We were talking about dogs over lunch and I mentioned how much I always wanted a Mabari. They immediately offered me the pick of their litter. I couldn’t turn down a gift, Cullen, Josephine told me it’s in bad taste.”

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. He stepped over to her and leaned down for a kiss. “Thank you, Elaira. He’s amazing.” The pup in his arms barked in agreement, wriggling excitedly. Elaira laughed as her own pup wiggled in return, tugging playfully on her brother’s ear. 

“Come on, they’ve been cooped up in their crate all morning. Let’s take them to the garden to play.” 

Much to Elaira’s delight, Cullen was trailed everywhere by his clumsy, eager shadow – and when the pup got too tired the Commander carried him instead. Cullen had an irrepressible grin on his face for weeks…


	22. Dinner, Overheard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been a while! Sorry for the incredible delay, I was very, VERY sick, and life kept happening so... yeah. I hope to be posting more regularly again. I've missed my characters (and my wonderful readers!). <3

“I will not.” 

“Please?” 

“No.”

“It’s not so bad.” 

“Then you eat it.”

“I am eating it, I’m trying to get you to eat it, too.”

“No. Thank you.”

“It’s good for you.”

“It tastes like it’s terrible for me.”

_Sigh._

Silence.

“You’re a stubborn woman, Elaira.”

“You love it.”

_Chuckle._

“I love you, even the stubborn parts.”

“If you love me you’ll eat these disgusting sprouts on my behalf.”

Silence.

_Sigh._

“All right, pass them here.”

A mug of ale clanked on the table.

“Are you going to eat your pie?”

_Chuckle._

“You can have it.”

She giggled. 

“I love you too.”


	23. Vallaslin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been a while! Sorry I haven't updated in ages - grad school has left me with almost no free time. Hopefully I can still update now and again - I haven't lost my love of these DAI characters yet. Feel free to comment with ideas or suggestions as well, I'd love to hear them. <3
> 
> FYI - earlier chapters have been rearranged slightly to give what I hope is a better mix of humor-angst-fluff as you read through them.

Sighing, Cullen leaned over his desk, closing his eyes. A seemingly endless stack of troop deployments were still piled in front of him, waiting for his approval. He massaged his neck and tried to quiet his mind, hoping it would drive away the lyrium headache blooming in his head.

“Screaming inside. Powerful and powerless, they’ll abandon her, hate her when they see her truth. But her truth is a falsehood she cannot see.”

Cullen slammed his knee into his desk as Cole whispered next to him.

“Cole! You shouldn’t startle me like that, I could’ve attacked you.”

“You don’t want to hurt me.” The young man looked at him trustingly through the mop of blond hair hanging in his eyes.

Cullen sighed, willing his heartbeat to slow as he rubbed his knee. “No, of course not.”

Cole stepped closer, his body tense. “She’s in pain, afraid. I cannot help, but you can.”

Cullen looked up sharply at the spirit. “Who? Elaira?”

Cole nodded. “Her lion, her rock. The strong embrace that keeps her from flying apart. He melds the cracks, makes her whole. Would he still love her if he knew?”

Cullen quickly stood up and rushed out the door, tossing a hurried “Thank you, Cole,” over his shoulder as he crossed the walkway to the main keep. Forcing himself to slow to a walk, willing his face into impassivity, he entered Skyhold’s great hall. It seemed like every day it was becoming more crowded with nobles and other dignitaries, their glances drinking in his appearance and their whispers analyzing his every move. Cullen swallowed his distaste.

_Too much like Orlais. Skyhold was a sanctuary, claimed by the Inquisition as our home; but more and more of these vipers come to infest it every day._

He crossed to the far end of the hall, stopping in front of Josephine’s office and pretending to adjust his vambraces. He surreptitiously checked if anyone was still watching him. He slipped past Josephine’s door and went to the Inquisitor’s room instead, thanking the Maker when he found it unlocked. Quietly closing it behind him, he made his way up the stairs to Elaira’s room, ears straining for any sound. Cullen called quietly as he neared the top.

“Elaira? Are you here?”

No answer. Cullen took the last few stairs two at a time, reaching the top.

His whispered _“Makers breath,”_ misted in the freezing air. All the balcony doors had been left open to the winter air and the fire had burnt out in the fireplace; the blankets from her bed were spread on the floor; a pillow was ripped open and a dagger was lying nearby; an untouched meal sat congealed on a low table. Half the contents of her desk had been shoved off and scattered to the floor, pages of reports stirring in the gusts.

He stepped into the room, avoiding the mess on the floor. He found her on the balcony, leaning on the railing, her head hanging down as she rubbed at the Mark, seemingly unaware he was there.

“Elaria?” he called softly, tentatively stepping towards her.

She didn’t turn, but quickly stood, wiping at her face. “Cullen, I… am not good company now. You should come back later…” Her voice cracked and wavered. He strode over and wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re freezing!” he exclaimed, the chill of her arms quickly penetrating through his gloves.

“I… hadn’t noticed,” she whispered, her face half hidden as she stared out across the Frostbacks.

He let her go long enough to take off his cloak and wrap it’s fur-rimmed warmth around her smaller frame. Elaira sighed, rubbing her cheek on the fur and drawing it closer around her body.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Cullen went back to her room, taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands to warm his fingers. He cleaned the fireplace and started a new fire, making sure it took and was well on its way to a roaring blaze. He shut all the balcony doors except the one closest to her, and stopped to remove his armor, carefully stacking it on an empty couch.

She hadn’t moved from where he left her, clutching his cloak around her shoulders and staring across the mountains. He wrapped himself around her, one arm around her waist and the other over her hands, clutching at his cloak beneath her chin. He winced silently as the chill of her body soaked through the cloak.

“Why are you out here?” he asked, pressing his lips to her hair, feeling her body trembling against his.

Elaira was silent except for a shuddering breath she drew in and held. He squeezed her hands under his, trying to lend her support. She let it out with a strangled gasp, her head falling against her chest.

“I… can’t do this, Cullen…” she stammered, tears flowing over his chilled, bare hand where it clutched hers beneath the cloak. “I’m… just a hunter, just an _elf_ , and elf whose own clan didn’t even want her.”

Cullen blinked in surprise. Her body convulsed beneath his as she drew another shuddering breath.

“How can I lead the Inquisition…” Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I’m a fraud, Cullen. It was dumb luck that stuck this Mark on me, not your Maker and not my Gods.”

“Elaira,” he whispered, tugging on her arms to turn her to face him. The skin on her face was pale, mottled red from the biting wind. Her bloodshot eyes overflowed with tears which froze halfway down her cheeks. He brushed them away with his hand, his breath catching in his throat at how deathly cold her skin felt on his. “You’re going to freeze solid out here.”

Without waiting for an answer he swept her up into his arms and went inside, kicking the door to the balcony shut behind him. The room hadn’t warmed much yet, but the fire was still going strong. He laid Elaira down on the couch near the blaze, then gathered up the strewn blankets and laid them out to warm near the fire as well. He finally sat down next to her, sighing as he gathered her back into his arms.

_Where do I even start?_

“What happened, love? What brought this on?”

Her body was trembling more fiercely now, and he tightened his grip, willing his warmth into her.

“I… We know what really happened, what we learned at Adamant. You, Leliana, everyone here… But we still stay quiet, we pretend… pretend like it was your Maker’s will… It was an accident… It’s all a fraud. It was Divine Justinia who sacrificed herself to save me… For no reason…”

Cullen stroked her hair, considering.

“I cannot presume to know the Maker’s will,” he eventually said. “But I for one still see his hand in this. You chose to intervene on the Divine’s behalf at the conclave; without your actions Thedas would have been lost.” He sighed, holding the shivering elven woman closer against him, willing her to relax. Instead Elaira laughed bitterly, her breath misting in the air.

“The conclave,” she whispered. “Do you even know why I was there, Cullen? Did Leliana’s little birds ferret that information from my Clan?”

Cullen’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “You said you were sent by your Clan,” he said uncertainly. “Leliana has never told me otherwise. Why, Elaira?” His hands clutched her closer to him as she trembled, another bitter laugh leaving her lips.

“Yes, my Clan sent me. They sent me to die, to be rid of me once and for all.”

Cullen froze, his lips parting in surprise. He forced his hands to continue rubbing warmth into her arms, not knowing what to say. 

“I never fit in,” she whispered. “Did you not ever wonder why I have no _vallaslin_?”

Cullen nodded slowly. “I had noticed when we met, and thought it odd,” he said. “I had never met a Dalish without one. But I didn’t want to offend by asking you why…” he trailed off. “And then I just never thought of it. You are you, and beautiful to me.”

Elaira’s fingers squeezed his arm. “We are supposed to receive our _vallaslin_ when we come of age. The Keeper determines who is ready, who is allowed and when.” She sighed. “When I was born, my mother died.” Cullen hesitated in confusion at the sudden change of topic.

“I… I did not know. I’m sorry, Elaira.”

She nodded against his chest. “She was beloved by all the Clan. The Keeper…” Elaira trailed off. “There were many rumors, I don’t know what were true. But she said she had a vision in the blood of my mother as she died. She said I was linked with darkness, that she saw the end of the Clan by me, the end of all _elvhen_.  She wanted me left to the wild, to die, to save the Clan.”

Cullen sat stunned. He leaned his head to hers, breathing in the scent of her hair, the braids half undone from the gusting winds outside. Eventually he found his voice.

“What happened?”

“An old hunter, childless, but well respected in the Clan defied the Keeper.  She convinced them to let her raise me. And so it went. But none forgot the Keeper’s words. And so I was never truly… welcome. My foster-mother loved me, taught me well. I grew to be one of the best hunters for the Clan, so they could not afford to cast me out when I came of age. Life is hard for the Dalish, food and resources scarce. But… none would’ve mourned if I were to go missing, or to fall during the hunt. Perhaps that is why I became fascinated with humans, because my own people hated me.” She laughed briefly.

“My fascination did not earn me any favor among my Clan, either. When word of the conclave came, I tried convincing my Keeper of the importance, how we should be represented, and be part of whatever negotiations took place.” She finally looked up at Cullen, her face tear streaked and red from the cold and crying.

“My Keeper did not share my fascination with humans. She believed that the meeting of humans would kill any Dalish foolish enough to attend, either immediately or after torturing them for fun. That is why she let me come. She could be rid of me in a way that was beyond reproach, _finally_ , and the Clan would be safe.” She smiled grimly.

Cullen pressed his lips to her hair, breathing her scent and rubbing her arms as he assimilated what he told her.

“What they did to you was terrible, but… Why are you telling me this now? What has happened to upset you so?”

She sighed in his arms.

“They’re all dead, Cullen.” Elaira shuddered in his arms. “My Clan is dead. I failed them.”

Cullen tightened his arms around her as his mind reeled. “The Duke of Wycome failed to protect them?”

She nodded under his chin. “He didn’t arrive in time, the Clan was… massacred. I... It’s coming true. I caused the end of the Clan.”

Cullen sat Elaira up against the couch so he could look her in the eyes.

“Elaira, no. You did everything you could to save them, despite how cruel they were to you. Your actions are beyond reproach. What happened was not your fault.”

She stared at him, her eyes red and glassy.

“If I were not Inquisitor… If I had died… No one would have targeted them.”

Cullen stroked her cheek, still cool from the winter air.

“We cannot know what may have happened. As you said, life is hard for the Clans, you told me how often you had to move or fight to escape bandits or slavers.” He sighed, and rubbed her hands with his.

“Elaira, everything you have accomplished has proven beyond a doubt that you are the leader the Inquisition needs - that _Thedas_ needs. It does not matter if you believe that you were given the mark by the Maker, the Creators, or just dumb luck – but I believe there is no one better suited for the task.” He smiled faintly. “And for entirely selfish reasons, I cannot help but thank the Maker every day for bringing you into my life.”

Elaira swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. She cupped his hand with hers and turned, kissing his palm. She sighed, closing her eyes.

“Will you… could you stay? I could…” She looked at him shyly, then down at her lap. “I’d like it if you held me for a little while.”

Cullen gathered her back into his arms, settling them both back against the couch.

“For as long as you need me, Elaira.”


End file.
